


What I Did for Love

by DunmerLover



Series: What Happens in the Fighters' Guild [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Age Difference, Blackmail, Daedric Prince/Imperial, Daedric Princes, Daedric artefacts, Desecrating family heirlooms, Dunmer/Imperial, Dunmer/human, Engagement, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fighters Guild, Forced into sex, Helm of Oreyn Bearclaw, Kvatch rebuilt, Light Bondage, Lore-inspired, Lots of sweating for some reason, Malacath's champion is a vessel, Massive age difference, Modryn is guildmaster, OC is not the Hero of Kvatch, OC is second in command, Original Imperial character - Freeform, Porn With Plot, Post-Canon, Restraints, Rough Sex, Sex with Daedric Prince, The Fighters Guild is massive, Ultimatums, Verbal Humiliation, Violent Sex, blackmailed into sex, happy ending I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-04-23 10:55:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14330958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DunmerLover/pseuds/DunmerLover
Summary: After three years as a couple, Modryn Oreyn asks his second-in-command to be his wife. The Fighters' Guild becomes a family-run operation, and the Helm of Oreyn Bearclaw is displayed proudly in the Guild hall. Hardly a moment after it is, Modryn's history catches up to him, and he learns that he can never escape his fate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a direct sequel to a story I wrote before called _Insufferable_ which is about the events of this couple getting together, and takes place three years previous to this.
> 
> Anyway, I wrote about Modryn before and I'm pleasantly surprised at how popular he is! This is more of the same and something else too. See tags. It's based on the story of Malacath and Oreyn Bearclaw and Modryn's ancestors, which I just ate right up. Modryn's family history fascinates me.
> 
> I couldn't find much information on Dunmer marriage ceremonies, and nothing at all on how they propose so for the sake of being lore-friendly and not making a load of shit up, I'm sticking with "Nine Divines" methods here, for the most part. It's Cyrodiil anyway so it seems fair.
> 
> In this story Modryn is 153, Evie is 28.

Not too much ever changed in the Fighters’ Guild in the space of only three years. As always, members both old and new came and went, be it through retirement, death or relocating - however the same Guildmaster ran the operation, with the same second-in-command under him. And they were well-liked, both in the Guild and the wider community. Under their influence, the Guild had gone from strength to strength. And over the course of those three years, the leaders of the Cyrodiil Fighters’ Guild had been a couple.

That the Guildmaster and his second-in-command were a couple was common knowledge in Chorrol, of course, and throughout the Guild, but not something most outsiders would know before they met the pair. So far apart in age, and seemingly so different in personality, the only thing the Dunmer and Imperial seemed to share on first inspection was the friendly banter between them. To dig a little deeper was to learn they shared a home and a bed - amongst other things, and had made a life together. They were something of a curiosity among visitors to the city - _let them be… they’re good people and they’re not hurting anyone_ , was how most citizens would respond to their confusion or disgust.

It hadn’t been that way in the beginning, Modryn Oreyn thought to himself as he strode through the plaza towards the Guild hall that morning. The few who noticed the small difference about him dropped their jaws and their eyes, wide with excitement, followed him. When he and Evie Cenitus finally cracked under the pressure of keeping their secret from the world, and announced publicly that they were now lovers. People had, in general, responded far better than either had expected to the news - more shock and surprise than uninvited scrutiny, but it still wasn’t easy. It was odd to see a dark elf and an Imperial pair up in the first place, and given she was but a fraction of his age… if it had been some other couple, and they were the spectators, maybe they’d have reacted the same way.

They’d stood tall through it all though - Evie meant more to him than to give up what they had when others tried to get in the way, and he meant the same to her. If anything, the damning of others brought them closer than ever, and somewhere along the way what they had turned into love. And after a few weeks it was old news to everyone, and people simply adjusted. It wasn’t long before they were received the same way as any other couple in the city, and it had stayed that way. Nowadays, the only time they were brought up in such a context was if a visitor asked.

_’The girl, and the elf? They run the Fighters’ Guild, and they’re a couple. Good people - make sure you don’t catch him on a bad day though’_

Their fellow guildmates had defended them right from the start. Not a complete surprise to either, yet Modryn still recalled how Evie’s eyes had welled up with sheer emotion at the outpouring of support from comrades all over Cyrodiil. At the way their guildmates argued so unanimously that they made the best couple any of them had ever seen, and they should never give up.

Modryn reached the door to the building on the right - the operation in Chorrol alone had gotten so big they’d had to buy out the mages’ building and expand into it. As always, the Mages’ Guild was never too far away, they’d moved into a building further down from the plaza. He opened the large doors and stepped confidently into the relative darkness. On the ground floor was Kurz gro-Baroth, and Azzan, who’d transferred from Anvil some time ago. They both immediately spotted the amulet around their Guildmaster’s neck, the pendant resting on top of his old iron armour virtually screaming to be seen by everyone. Neither said a word, but both returned the wide smile that had been plastered on Modryn’s face the moment he’d entered the building. Azzan stepped aside from the back door and gestured with a sweep of his right hand.

“She’s out in the yard, boss,” he said simply, grinning widely.

The elf made for the back door, and naturally, Azzan followed him out while gro-Baroth scrambled to gather as many fighters from the upper floor as he could before missing it himself. A clear, warm morning like this meant that any of their comrades who weren’t out on a contract could probably be found target training or sparring in the yard, or maybe fixing up their armour in the sunlight while they chatted and watched the others train. Modryn stood on the veranda, slightly away from the door to let through the steady trickle of guildmates Kurz had woken. He spotted her instantly. Evie knelt in the grass at the far end of the yard with a (relatively) small, young Nord - the newest recruit to their chapter. The Nord watched and listened intently as the Imperial taught him something about repairing armour - or at least, Modryn assumed she did. It wasn’t her position, especially since they had a smith in residence, yet she’d always had a real knack for it. And so it came naturally for her to pass on what she knew. No gold ever changed hands, Evie always seemed satisfied just watching the new recruits become more proficient, or at least, struggle less.

Modryn grinned ever wider as more and more people turned from their respective tasks and stared first at the Guildmaster and his growing entourage, and then at the amulet. One by one, weapons lowered, hanging limply in the hands of those too distracted to continue. Now he saw her, what he was about to do seemed suddenly more real - the glowing embers of anticipation that grew inside him were now a roaring fire. Everyone parted to form a gangway as the Dunmer approached, heading straight for his second-in-command. She hadn’t looked up once, far too engrossed in the details of the recruit’s ratty leather shield to even notice that the whole yard had fallen silent. The birds themselves seemed to have stopped singing, the very breeze around them deathly quiet.

He cleared his throat loudly and deliberately, and finally Evie looked away from her work, her beautiful face bright with curiosity as her cold blue eyes met his crimson, and she noticed first his grin that still spread from ear to ear.

“Darling, what is it?” she asked, before her gaze lowered to the Amulet of Mara around Modryn’s neck.

Her already pale face drained of what colour there ever was, and only when Oreyn extended a hand for her to take did she oblige and stand.

“I thought we might as well do this your way,” he said simply while the Imperial merely stared, eyes wide.

“Does this mean…” Evie began in a wavering voice, trailing off. She became aware of the many eyes fixed on them - Guild or otherwise - and seemed to wither under the attention. It seemed like half of Chorrol had been drawn to the scene. Even Vilena Donton had come out to see, and she stood there weeping silently, yet happily.

Modryn nodded proudly, taking both of her hands in his. His heart pounded. “It does,” he said, his tone gentle yet more serious than Evie had ever heard. “Three years we knew each other before coming together, and I didn’t need another three to know I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Be mine, Evie… now and forever.”

Her breath hitched on a sob lost somewhere in her chest, and the tears that had welled in her eyes began to fall down her face. Evie’s smile was as wide as could be as she threw her arms around Modryn’s neck. He caught her around the waist as she leapt at him. “Now and forever!” she repeated with enthusiasm.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and heard the crowd squeal and cheer in delight, heard them coming closer, offering congratulations to the couple. Finally she leaned away, looking up at Modryn - _her_ Modryn, now and forever. Her fiancé. She kissed him once. “I love you Modryn,” she said, still beaming, eyes still shining. “You’ve made these last few years the happiest of my life.”

Those hands around her waist squeezed her tighter, and Oreyn grinned wickedly. His whole body buzzed in relief, he didn’t know what he’d possibly gotten so worked up for. “Plenty more where they came from,” he said, as the unafraid veterans in the crowd started to pile on him, one after the other. He laughed, then his knees buckled under the weight. “A whole lifetime!” he managed to get out before he was lost entirely underneath several orcs, an Altmer and a Redguard.

Evie laughed heartily too, though instead of joining in she decided to help her fiancé out, and slapped both Honditar and Guurz gro-Kurg playfully on the back of the head. “That’s enough boys, get up,” she said, her tone wry. “I do want him to _live_ if I’m going to marry him.”

They obliged slowly. Gro-Kurg rolled his eyes as he clambered off his Guildmaster and stood. “Whatever you say, boss…” he said derisively before offering Evie a (relatively) gentle congratulatory pat on the shoulder that nearly sent her to the ground as well.

Still beaming, Evie regained her composure and addressed the wider crowd. “Unless it’s a matter of life or death, forget your contracts today!” she announced. It took an immense amount of restraint to keep from jumping on the spot in her excitement. “I’m sure our clients will understand. We’ll be celebrating at the Gray Mare all day and I want everyone to join in. Drinks are on us!”

She turned away, ignoring the majority for the moment, and caught up to Honditar. “You’re a fast rider,” she said to the Altmer. “I wouldn’t ask you to miss a second of our celebration, but I trust you to do this for us. I want you to contact the Guild in Kvatch. Tell them of the news. Make sure they send word to Anvil and the Imperial City and that they keep it going from there.”

Honditar nodded once, slowly. “You can count on me,” he said. “I’ll be back before long. But what of your parents in the Imperial City? Surely they’d rather hear the news from you first.”

“I’ll send a letter out immediately, it should get there before anyone else does. I’m sure they’ll understand if it doesn’t.”

A pause as Evie looked up into her friend’s gentle face. She couldn’t believe he’d thought to consider that… she’d only recently begun to mend that strained relationship. Then again, not many people knew all that much about it.

“I can’t thank you enough for this,” she said. “There is gold in it - my gratitude.”

“Keep the gold, you only marry once and I intend to do what I can!” Honditar said finally as he turned to leave. He sprinted across the yard and out of sight.

Evie knelt down to Modryn, who was still recovering from the half-ton of guildmates dogpiling him. Around them people still gathered, still congratulating the pair as they passed by. Most still talked among themselves, but eventually, everybody made in the direction of the tavern. Evie offered a hand this time.

“Get up, my love,” she cooed. Still she was unable to contain her joy. Modryn took her hand and the pair stood. They, too, headed for the Gray Mare. “It seems we have a lot of planning to do.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I haven't updated this in 2 months?
> 
> I've been chipping away at it almost every single day, it's been an awful experience. I've been hating my writing recently, I guess cutting calories and working overtime does that to my brain. I didn't want to upload or even write something I wasn't happy with so for the most part I've been staring at this unfinished chapter and not writing anything and getting stressed.
> 
> But here it is! I'm actually really happy with it as it is.
> 
> NOTE: the conversation between the two of them flits between Common and Dunmeris - anything spoken in the latter is depicted by italicised dialogue.

The bedroom door burst open with the force of the two entangled bodies on the other side. The pair didn’t bother to look where they were going as they stumbled across the room, unwilling to take their lips off their partner’s and their roving hands away from the other’s body. Modryn backed Evie towards the bed and the two only stopped advancing when the back of her legs collided with the frame. After being stripped hastily of her cuirass, the Imperial allowed herself to be thrown down on the covers and when she regained her balance, she propped herself up on her elbows and looked up at her fiancé. The man positively smouldered with lust, the fire in his eyes told her what she already knew - he wouldn’t wait another second for this.

Modryn pulled at the straps on his own armour, they were already stuck out at odd angles from Evie’s lacklustre attempt to strip him while they’d ascended the stairs. The heavy iron fell to the floor with a dull thud, revealing the man’s powerful, perfect body. Despite his position as Guildmaster, he still worked hard on countless contracts, and the honed muscle that Evie stared at now was proof of that. As Oreyn knelt on the bed, over the girl, straddling her, Evie lifted a hand to the Dunmer’s deep chest, fingers ran along grey skin and slightly paler scars, some old and some newer. He pushed her down onto the pillows and kissed her deeply, hungrily. He kissed her like they’d been separated for a hundred years, and it was several long minutes before either broke away.

They wasted no time. Celebrating the engagement with their guildmates and friends today had been wonderful, but they’d been so eager to get home and celebrate on their own, in their own way. Quickly the two undressed fully, and Modryn pinned Evie to the bed with his own body, lips locked. He ground his need, already painful, against her.

Evie broke away. “Let me…” she whispered.

After he eased his weight off her, the girl flipped their positions - with Modryn’s help, of course - and when she did, Evie took his cock in one hand. Oreyn groaned, barely audible, as she worked the generous length, and she was content to watch him - his eyes closed lazily, expression betrayed half anguish and half bliss, and his deep chest rose and fell so heavily, yet so slowly.

How had she managed to be so lucky, Evie thought to herself as she dropped to her elbows. At first she only teased the elf with her warm breath on his manhood, rewarded with a sigh of frustration. She’d wanted Modryn so badly - in some fashion, at least, since the day they met. While others might have thought him a bastard- well, he _was_ a bastard at times, but maybe, Evie thought, she perhaps found that charming. There was something that always kept her by his side and made her work hard to have what they shared, even before they were a couple.

Besides, he’d always been kind to her, after he’d gotten to know her.

She began to lick the length of his cock, and his sighs only grew louder, longer. Fingers wound through the girl’s raven hair when she took the thick organ into her mouth and eased further down, as far as she could go, her tongue laving over every inch, and the grip only tightened as she surfaced, sucking as she did.

“Careful Evie…” Modryn said quietly. “Carry on like this and I won’t last much longer…”

Those blue eyes flicked up to his, and had her mouth not been filled by an enormous dick, she’d have grinned. She accepted the challenge readily, working him as only she could. As she massaged his balls, Evie closed her eyes and appreciated the noises she pulled out of him as Modryn only gripped her hair tighter and tighter with each second that passed.

“That’s enough…” Modryn sighed through gritted teeth. He truly wouldn’t hold out any longer if she kept at it. Strong chest heaving, he sat up straight.

His grip on Evie’s long hair relaxed, as she obliged him, releasing his throbbing manhood from her mouth but still offering one final long, slow lick up the entire length of his aching shaft. He gasped a final time as she did, and on her knees Evie rose to full height. Modryn caressed her lithe form, hands exploring then settling on her back as she placed her kisses on his clavicle. She moved up his neck and eventually any further sounds he made were silenced by her lips on his again.

The Dunmer broke away to kiss the mound of Evie’s breast, lowering his head just enough to take a pert nipple into his mouth. He sucked slowly, just the way that he knew drove Evie wild. As she moaned in clear need, one of Modryn’s hands descended, caressing the girl’s ass for a moment before moving along the outside of one strong thigh, and across her bare sex. Thumb rubbed at her clit, slowly at first, before sliding one finger inside, seeking out that sweet spot she liked best. The whimper that came from the Imperial told him when he’d hit the mark, and he added another finger without trouble - she was so wet already. He worried that same spot until Evie trembled on top of him.

“ _Master…_ ” she sighed, half-pleading.

Modryn growled. That one small word sent a pulse of need through him and it went straight to his cock. He withdrew his fingers and the head of his manhood pressed against her.

“My second,” Oreyn responded. He was playing along with her game tonight. Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn’t.

Her dark eyebrows raised ever so slightly. She massaged the muscles of his shoulders absent-mindedly. He really was perfect. “What do you need of me, Master?”

“Ride me.”

Evie placed her lips on his again as she eased down onto her fiancé’s cock, and as she began to grind, slowly and smoothly at first, his groans were lost in her mouth. Fingers pressed a little deeper into her waist as he guided her pace to his own liking, already impatient, already so close to losing his mind. She still clung to Modryn’s broad shoulders, in part for balance and in part because she didn’t ever want to let go of him.

She pulled her lips from his and for a moment the two only stared deep into each other’s eyes, Modryn’s expression fierce and Evie’s face a picture of wonderful anguish, and Evie nuzzled her nose against his.

“Evie…” Modryn breathed, their lips barely touching, their hot breath washing over each other as they panted. He was entirely lost inside of her.

As their pace became more urgent and she fucked him harder, she lifted her head and shaved hairs grazed her cheek as she ran her tongue along the edge of his ear as though tasting a fine delicacy. She chose his right ear today, the torn one, and it was never an easy decision - Modryn had two perfect ears and Evie had only one set of teeth to chew on them with. A small smile pulled at Modryn’s mouth as he felt the familiar sensation of her teeth, and she only rode him harder, all patience gone. He’d been with a couple of human girls, _long_ before Evie, but of them she was the only one who felt such a need to do this.

One hand came away from her waist and travelled further down, and as soon as two skilled fingers began to rub her clit, Evie stiffened and bit down harder, only a little but Modryn felt the difference. Her pussy clamped down tight around the Dunmer’s cock and he gasped openly.

“Slow down, Evie…”

All of a sudden the fierce bucking of Oreyn’s hips into hers had stopped, and a forceful hand on her hip was holding her there in his lap. He wouldn’t let her move. Evie leaned back, letting go of his ear, and met his eye.

“What’s wrong?”

Modryn was so close, she could see it in his eyes. Despite how hard his cock throbbed inside her, he focused all his attention on Evie.

“Come for me,” she said quietly, leaning back on her lover’s shoulder, chest heaving. He never let up. “You’re close, come for me please.”

“Not without you.”

It didn’t take her long. Evie started to tremble, about to fall over the edge herself. She revelled in everything Modryn offered, and as she began to gasp for air his tight grip on her hip relaxed a little. Now she was able to, she fucked him as though her life depended on it, chasing the climax he so willingly gave her. She wailed mindlessly as it wracked her body, holding onto him for dear life and the world faded out - only the two of them existed now. Modryn’s hands gripped her hips so hard she would surely bruise as he slammed her back down onto him, over and over, until he issued a final sharp, guttural sigh. He shuddered violently as he spilled deep inside, and together they slowed, riding out the last.

The world came back to Evie as she knelt over Modryn’s hips, feeling the heat of their entangled bodies both covered in sweat, feeling his heart race against her chest. She peeled herself off him, and the only sound to be heard was how heavily they both breathed from both climax and exertion.

She kissed him again, much more softly this time. “I love you,” she whispered.

He didn’t respond in words, but the look in his eyes as he gazed at her told Evie her sentiment was returned fully. One hand grazed her cheek as he kissed her again, for a full minute.

Evie eased herself off Modryn’s lap and settled herself on the bed. She felt his release leak out onto the bedsheets as she craned her head back momentarily, gazing out the window behind. The light was disappearing fast, and almost as if in response to her internal musing, Modryn stood and lit the lamps, and the bedroom was bathed in a gentle glow.

He picked up a bottle from the dresser, popped the cork and took a swig of the pale yellow potion inside, before moving across the room and handing it to Evie.

“Thanks…”

She sat up and took it, and as Modryn returned to the dresser and picked up a hairbrush, she drank her share. So far Angalmo was the only alchemist who could make a birth control potion taste bearable, but still, she stuck out her tongue and grimaced at the taste.

Evie set the remainder down on the bedside table, and for a while she just watched Modryn brush out his mohawk. A part of her still couldn’t quite appreciate the fact that she’d soon be married to this mer. She’d never have believed she could be so lucky.

“...Darling?” Evie said suddenly. She settled back down on her elbow as Modryn hummed in acknowledgement, his eyes meeting hers from where he stood.

One leg shifted under the other. “Do you think we should have an Imperial ceremony? Or a Dunmer ceremony?”

His movements halted briefly, brush halfway through his now-tamed mohawk. His shoulders rose to a half-shrug. “I haven't really thought about it.”

“But what would you choose, in our position?”

“I don’t mind in the slightest,” Modryn replied. “All that matters is that we’re together.”

Affection was betrayed in the Imperial’s warm smile. “ _That goes without saying,_ ” she said. “ _But… this is still something we need to decide. And I want your opinion on this… so what’s it going to be? Imperial or Dunmer? Here or Morrowind? C’mon… Mara or Almalexia?_ ”

Modryn set the brush down on the dresser, and made his way back over to the bed. “ _Never did I think I’d marry,_ ” he said. “ _Not before you. I really haven’t put a lot of thought into the finer details. I suppose…_ ”

He sat back down on the bed. “ _I suppose it depends on where you'd want to live - here, or Morrowind._ ”

He nodded knowingly at the look of utter shock that crossed the girl’s face. “What - leave Chorrol?” she squealed. “Leave everyone we love? Leave the _Guild?_ ”

The elf offered that same wicked grin Evie had fallen in love with all those years ago. “I thought as much,” he said simply. “Imperial it is.”

And with that, he clambered onto the bed and laid down. Evie chuckled to herself.

“I suppose that’s one way of deciding… but I don’t want to leave your heritage out of it entirely.”

Modryn rolled onto his back, and sighed. “Fine then. Dunmer.” His voice was laden with a mock exasperation. “Just let me sleep.”

“Hear me out! Aren’t there… rituals, or the like… that I need to do to be accepted as a part of your family? Surely they mustn’t be left out?”

Oreyn yawned openly. “This is all new to me,” he admitted. “I don’t really _know_ how much relevance that might have for an Imperial. The rituals would serve the purpose of allowing you to commune with my ancestors in the same way _I_ can. Since you’re not a Dunmer, you probably won’t have that anyway… not for lack of trying.”

He gave Evie a moment to take it all in and decide. He looked up at her face and saw her nod slowly, once, gazing across the room to fix the wall intently.

“That may be,” she said finally. “But I still want to do it. If we’re going to do this, we’ll do it right.”

“That settles it then,” Modryn said. “An Imperial-Dunmer fusion ceremony in the chapel of Mara.”

He extended his left arm along the width of the bed, beckoning Evie to settle with him. She did gladly. She laid down next to him and snuggled in, and wrapped an arm around her fiancé’s strong body. He held her close. Against the crook of his neck, he could feel that her smile never left her lips. “It sounds wonderful,” Evie said.

Neither said anything for a little while, and the shrieking of an owl somewhere outside filled the silence. Eventually the man felt something wet collect on his skin, and crawl along his shoulder.

“And you’re right,” the Imperial continued. Her words were half-muffled by Modryn’s skin against her mouth. “I don’t care how we do it. We could be wed by… by _Sheogorath_ … and I wouldn’t care. As long as it’s you I marry.”

He hugged Evie tighter, and kissed her on the forehead as he brushed away her tears with his thumb. “ _Hush, Evie,_ ” he said. “ _There’s no reason to cry._ ”

She sniffled a little. “ _I’m just happy, that’s all. I love you more than I can fathom._ ”

“ _I love you all the same, and more._ ”

He didn’t say it all that often. Evie never really expected him to, but it was okay with her - it only meant more at the times he did tell her. And she knew he felt it, no matter what he did or didn’t say. Modryn wasn’t great when it came to expressing his feelings - the ones that didn’t involve being pissed off, anyway.

“Evie Oreyn…” the girl said eventually. She looked up. “I rather like the sound of that.”

Modryn grinned ever wider now. “If we were wed by Sheogorath, your name would be Sload… and you wouldn’t have a choice in the matter.”

Evie laughed openly now, and she sat up. “Oh yeah? And I wonder what your name would be?”

When Modryn only gazed back up at her with that smirk on his face, Evie continued. “You know… I’ve been thinking about something today. It’s still early stages but I’d like you to weigh in on it.”

That got his interest. He sat up too. “To do with the guild or ceremony? Or something else?”

“Guild… I guess. You might not like the idea.”

“What is it?”

“When I take the Oreyn name I’m going to be a part of the family.”

Modryn snorted derisively. “I _am_ the family,” he said.

“I know - _we_ will be the family. Which means the Guild in Cyrodiil will be a family-run operation… perhaps there’s something we can do to celebrate this. Something that might benefit all our guildmates.”

And with that, the girl swung her legs over the bed, stood, and crossed the room. Modryn watched her with increasing curiosity. He let her go, assuming all his burning questions would be answered in time, but right now he really didn’t know _what_ she was talking about. Evie reached up to the top of a cupboard and when she turned around and came back into view, she was holding the heirloom Modryn had given her some five years ago. The Helm of Oreyn Bearclaw.

The muscles in Evie’s lower arms and naked abdomen strained as she carried the weight of the helmet back over to the bed, and when she knelt back on, she was able to set it down and relax. When Modryn had given it to her, all that time ago, he was fully aware the girl had never worn a scrap of heavy armour in her life, but that wasn’t the point. His gratitude for everything she’d done - for him and the Guild, there was no possible way to truly repay that. And he had nothing else to give.

A part of him had hoped she’d treat it with the same respect she indeed had - separating it both physically and mentally from the other treasures stored away in that chest at the foot of the bed, by setting it atop a cabinet or mantle where it could always be seen. Another part of him had hoped she might some day marry a Knight or Warrior who _did_ like his armour heavy, and he, whoever he would be, would make use of it. They may even have had children, raised by the weapon as was Evie, and they might’ve taken an interest in it too. It would’ve been a part of _her_ family.

He was right about _that_ much, but at the time he certainly didn’t expect it to come back to him.

“ _Here…_ ”

Evie lifted the Helm up again, higher, above head height, and Modryn bowed his head and allowed her to ease the strange skull on gently. His long ears folded forward onto themselves as the Helm passed over them, and it settled somewhere around his lower jaw. It fit like it had been made just for him. She lowered her hands, running her fingers across the smooth surface as she did, and Modryn raised his head again, looking at the girl through a fringe of huge teeth, and he listened.

“ _The Helm of Oreyn Bearclaw represents everything we did to save the Guild,_ ” Evie continued. “ _And everything we’ve done since then to make it what it is today. And now… it represents us coming together as a family. It’s entirely wasted sat up here on a dresser where only we see it… and it never gets any use._ ”

Those red eyes seemed to illuminate the old jawbones that lay along Modryn’s face as the magelight played across them. “ _You want to display it in the Guild hall,_ ” he said.

“Exactly! But what if we didn’t just display it, what if we loaned it to our Guild brothers for their contracts? They could sign it out, and back in when they returned with it. We could have a ledger for just that, so we’d know where it was at all times, and perhaps make it a rule that only a certain rank upwards can use it. The Defenders, maybe. That way we’d know it was in the right hands.”

When Modryn said nothing at first, Evie’s hopeful expression began to falter.

“It seems a good idea,” he finally added, not taking his eyes off hers. “Until the Helm attracts an opportunistic member of the Thieves’ Guild… we welcome him into our ranks, completely unaware of who he _really_ is. He plays a long game, he slowly climbs to the rank of Defender, signs out the Helm and we never see him again.”

Evie grinned. “ _Then I’d hunt that fetcher down and kill him myself. I’d follow him to Akavir if need be, and you know I’d find him._ ”

Modryn nodded slowly. “ _I have no doubt you’d do just that._ ”

“ _So… what do you think? It could be a great help to everybody here._ ”

A brief moment of deliberation. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t trial it, at least,” he said. “Since it’s your idea I’ll leave you in charge of organising it.”

Evie breathed a sigh of relief, and as she pulled her man in for a tight embrace, her naked body pressed against his bare chest and the bone helmet hard against her cheek, she was already rifling through mental images of exactly where in the Guild hall she would place it. Already, she began to imagine who might be the first ones to take it out in the field, and who might like using it the most. “You won’t regret it!” she said brightly. “This will be a venture like no other!”

She tried to kiss him again, but access to his mouth proved impossible while he wore the Helm. It was just far too bulky. She laughed again, and her fingers travelled down Modryn’s smooth chest, and along his solid torso. Evie smiled.

“You know, I rather like you in that helmet,” she said, her tone inviting as her touch descended even further. A fresh wave of excitement travelled through her core as she began to gently stroke his cock - he was half-hard already.

He returned that wicked smile now, eyes blazing with a renewed desire. “I rather like _you_ ,” he mirrored, getting to his knees.

Again he tried to kiss her, and failed, and settled for a brush of his fingers over her pale cheek. He straddled the girl, wearing nothing but the Helm, and those hands explored further, massaging ample breasts hungrily.

“Weren’t you tired a moment ago?” Evie quipped, eyebrows raised. “What happened to that? Didn’t you want me to leave you to sleep?”

“I don’t feel quite so tired after wearing this helmet again,” Modryn replied simply. He dropped to his elbows and held his fiancée.

“I feel like I could go all night, actually…”

“Well, I’m certainly not complaining about that.”

His hard length pressed against her entrance, and he whispered in her ear. “When we move my heirloom into the Guild hall…”

As he began to ease in, he felt the distracted digging of Evie’s nails in the muscles of his back, as always. He slid inside with no trouble, she was still so wet from before. At first he settled on a slow, torturous pace, still offering that wicked smirk, and neither took their eyes away from the other’s. “And when you see our brothers and sisters wear it…”

A low chuckle rumbled from Modryn’s chest as his pace quickened, he was already struggling to keep his composure. “…Try not to think about this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helm of Oreyn Bearclaw:
> 
> Agility +10, Stamina +10


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure why this chapter took a week or so and the last one took two months. But here it is.
> 
> Again conversation in Dunmeris is italicised.
> 
> So I renamed the story! Named after the _David Guetta_ song, of course. A very romantic song to me, full of passion and emotion, and one of my favourite music videos of all time.

Evie Cenitus woke to a quiet bedroom only dimly lit by the oranges and pinks of the dawn sky outside. She could see the shapes of every article of furniture, and the outlines of the banners and a couple of Modryn’s paintings hung on the stone walls, but the light wasn’t yet strong enough to give anything much colour. And it was a warm morning - the girl woke to find an uncomfortable layer of hot sweat covered her skin, and she pushed the covers off her naked form to let the air wash over her. She stretched openly, finding it to be as refreshing a comfort as she’d expected.

Her eyelids were as heavy as boulders, and so were her limbs. There was nothing to be done right now than to go back to sleep. After throwing off the covers, Evie barely moved another inch, eyes closing peacefully as she prepared to succumb to exhaustion once again.

“My, my, _my_ …” came the slow, deep purr from only a couple of feet away. Evie jumped. Her eyes snapped open and she turned in the direction of the voice. She may have been half-asleep, but she knew that that was _not_ Modryn. And then, as the contents of the room took shape again in the difficult yet ever-strengthening light, she saw the hooded, cloaked figure stood at her bedside, as still as a cat preparing to pounce on its prey. He looked like a shadow.

 _…Death?_ Evie thought to herself, scrambling upright. Suddenly she remembered she was naked, and jerked the covers back up to her neck. She looked to her right for Modryn, for the comfort of knowing he would protect her, but her fiancé was nowhere to be seen. At her time of judgement, he had abandoned her.

“I almost didn’t want to wake you…” the shadow continued playfully. Gods… his voice was like velvet. Something so beautiful and alluring it could only be dangerous as it tried to hypnotise her. The man chuckled, and the sound was a seductive rumble that struck Evie’s very core.

She opened her mouth to tell the intruder to _get out of their house_ or suffer the consequences - seeming _much_ braver than she felt under that shadow’s unseen gaze, when he cut her off.

“You sleep so soundly… for a murderer.”

All the blood in her veins turned to ice. The girl’s open mouth hung where it was and she only stammered, full words failing her. She wasn’t aware of how violently she shook.

“H-how?” she managed to get out.

“...How?” the shadow repeated. Underneath the seduction, there was a condescending bite to his tone. “How do I _know?_ ”

He lifted his head a little, revealing the very human, very handsome face under the hood. Were Death actually a man, this was exactly how he would present himself, Evie thought. Dangerously handsome. Enticing enough that one might actually want to take his hand and go with him into the unknown. Terrified as she was though, Evie was not so easily swayed. She only nodded.

The man’s lip curled into a small smile. “The Dark Brotherhood sees everything,” he said slowly, ominously. “We _know_ everything.”

This was it. Oh gods, this was it, it had finally caught up to her. Almost subconsciously, her free hand felt behind her, underneath her pillow, and after a second of rummaging she felt the hilt of the dagger. More than a year had passed since that day, and nobody had come for her, or for the blade. At some point her only option had been to try and pretend it hadn’t ever happened, and get on with her life.

“Then you’ll know I didn’t murder him,” Evie said sternly.

The man’s dark eyebrows raised, amusement clear on his face, and even in the limited light Evie could still see that those brown eyes sparkled with malice. “You didn’t murder him? In that case… what would you call it? _Self-defence?_ You had _no other choice_ than to slit the prisoner’s throat with that cursed dagger?”

Everything she’d been trying so hard to forget, it all came back to her as clear as day. She didn’t think she’d _ever_ be able to forget the sickening, bubbling rattle as Ulrich Leland struggled to take his final breaths, but somehow she actually had until now. The way the blood wasn’t just smeared on her skin and clothing like after she finished a contract, but actually _painted_ her. She felt as sick now as she had when she’d done the deed.

“I didn’t murder him,” Evie repeated. “It was the only way…”

She gulped down air, trying hard to keep herself from dissolving into full-blown panic. _Where was Modryn?_ “It was the only way to put Aldos’ soul to rest. Llevana said he _had_ to die. An eye for an eye. She said throwing him in prison wasn’t enough…”

As soon as she met the man - pitiful, drunken, warming himself by an outdoor fire, Evie knew she would do anything to get Aldos Othran back on his feet. Even then she’d been ready to offer him a room in her own home - surely Modryn wouldn’t be _too_ mad at her for coming back from a contract and bringing a filthy stranger home to lodge with them… and if he didn’t want to make the move to Chorrol, she could’ve easily sorted something out with the Guild in Cheydinhal. He could’ve stayed there and completed odd jobs for coin… everything would go his way in the end, she was sure of it.

Not two minutes later he lay dead on the ground.

“Such a _strange_ girl…” the man mused. “You would take the life of a man who had done _nothing_ to you, in the name of a dark elf who was _already dead_. Tell your story however you see fit, but murder is still… murder.”

Evie hadn’t noticed her fellow Imperial inch ever closer, his movements far too small for her to see. Only when he placed a hand on the headboard, nearly level with her own head, did she recoil. She didn’t say anything. There was nothing for her to say.

“Your fiancé doesn’t know… does he?”

Now Evie really was about to hurl. He couldn’t know. He couldn’t _ever_ find out. Her wide eyes brimming with tears, never leaving his, told the man everything he could ever want to know.

He sneered. “A better time than ever to leave all of it behind. Run away now… and he will remember you as you want him to. I speak for the Dark Brotherhood… do you know of our… organisation?”

Finally Evie nodded.

“You would do well to join us,” the man purred. He leaned in so close she could make out the small scar on his jaw, and the peppermint sweetness of his very breath. He gave a predatory smirk, and when he reached into his robe and pulled a small dagger from his belt, Evie was paralysed with fear. “And so I come to you with an offer. Take this blade and-”

“I don’t want it,” Evie said immediately. It didn’t need thinking about. “I’m not one of you. And I never will be.”

She didn’t know how she expected him to react to that, but she certainly didn’t expect his smile to grow even wider.

“Very well.”

The change in demeanour was instant. In a split second he was upon her with the very blade he’d offered, unsheathed in the blink of an eye and aimed for her heart. Evie was too fast for him - more adrenaline flowed through her bloodstream than actual blood at this point and she kicked her knee hard into the man’s stomach. He was startled and a little winded, but not hurt. She rolled out from under him onto the empty side of the bed. The man was positively snarling when his head jerked back up to her, and he pounced.

The shadow was strong. Far too strong for Evie to throw off when he took her by the throat and pinned her to the bed. She would’ve screamed bloody murder had she access to air - all that came out her mouth was a few feeble squeaks. He was on top of her before she knew what was happening.

“This is the only way!” the man said as frantic fingers clawed uselessly at every part of him they could reach. They found the rim of his hood and pulled it down, and yanked weakly on the ponytail tied at the nape of his neck. Inhumanly strong, his own hand pressed harder on her windpipe, cutting off air entirely. “Join us, or die a coward!”

Words were impossible. Evie could only shake her head frantically as she pried at his grip on her throat, pulling desperately with both hands. She feared death more than most, but somehow this alternative was worse.

“No…” she wheezed. “… Help… Modryn…”

His smile was almost giddy. He was… _enjoying_ this. “He can’t save you now.”

He plunged the blade into her stomach.

“MODRYN!”

Evie shot upright and greeted complete and utter silence, save for the birds outside. Hyperventilating, her head whipped around the bedroom and in the comfortable, strong morning sun, there was no robed Imperial to be seen. One violently shaking hand clutched at her belly - Evie looked down and when she lifted her hand away she still expected to see her own blood cascading onto her skin. There was none. There was no wound. She’d only been dreaming quite possibly the worst dream of her life.

Gradually she stopped gasping for air, and relief overwhelmed her. She could’ve cried. Finally, she glanced over to the right, to the other side of the bed where Modryn Oreyn slept peacefully, his back to her. Evie threw her arm around him as she settled in close, still trembling, burying her face in his expansive back. She’d never been quite so happy to see him in all her life.

Her other hand snaked under the pillow, as if acting out her nightmare. There was no dagger under there. Of course there was no dagger there… it was downstairs. Mehrunes’ Razor was where she always kept it - in its rack, next to Thornblade. The two weapons had been gifted to her by the Champion of Cyrodiil and her husband, after she’d taken care of that contract in Cheydinhal. The Champion, Iliana - Ili to her friends - hadn’t a clue what the dagger was when it came into her possession, but the Count’s son recognised it straight away. Together they decided it was far too dangerous for either to want to wield, and so it gathered dust until the day it was passed on to Evie. She never told Modryn what that blade really was, and she certainly hadn’t told him what she’d done with it. He could never find out what she was.

Modryn began to stir, shifting onto his back and stretching his arms out as Evie continued to cling to him.

“ _You sure are affectionate today…_ ” he said groggily, though he still smiled warmly as he kissed her forehead, eyes barely open.

Evie giggled. “ _Aren’t I’m always?_ ”

“ _Well, there have been days I’ve felt somewhat… neglected…_ ” He rubbed his nose against hers.

She laughed heartily now. “ _Have_ not! _Don’t_ lied _to me darling!_ ”

“ _You know I love to_ encourage _you…_ ”

He wore a warm, sleepy smile. “ _Do you want to tell me what has you on edge? Your Dunmeris is_ terrible _when you’re stressed…_ ”

He knew her far too well. She lazily stroked his raven mane. “Just a bad dream, that’s all…”

And it was the truth. Modryn rolled over and onto his fiancée, his morning glory rubbing against her thigh as he shifted.

Evie smirked. “ _Someone’s_ up early…”

In response Oreyn ground his erection against her clit, and she stiffened. “Aren’t you cute…” he said dryly, returning the wicked smile. “Now shut up and let me take you.”

Without another word the Imperial was flipped onto her stomach. She gasped in surprise as she slammed into the mattress, and stilled in anticipation, feeling Modryn’s weight shift on the bed. He’d always been particularly playful in the mornings.

“The gods couldn’t possibly sanction what I’m about to do to you,” he said in a voice dripping with lust. He reached under the bed. “Not even Dibella.”

When Evie heard the clink of the chain, flowing through the Dunmer’s grip, her heart raced with excitement. Oh, he was _very_ playful today.

“...Maybe Sanguine could,” he decided.

He knelt over Evie’s small form and pulled her arms up above her head - not roughly by any means, but he made sure she was exactly where he wanted her. The thick metal of the shackles was cold, biting momentarily at Evie’s skin as the restraints closed over her wrists and the chain wrapped around them, and Modryn’s heavy body bent over hers was hot against her back. He cast aside the key and pulled Evie’s ass up to meet his body, brushed her long hair off her neck and placed a gentle kiss there as he pushed inside her impatiently.

Evie gasped at the sudden intrusion - not unwelcome, but at first uncomfortable without being prepared for it. By now she was so used to the size of him though, and when he started thrusting hard, fast, sighing heavily against her ear, she quickly found she didn’t care in the slightest. He needed her body in that moment, and she was happy to offer. Under him she writhed in delight, bound and entirely helpless to whatever it was her fiancé might do to her, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

He was already close to the edge, and Evie guessed she might not come this time, but that would be all right - it wouldn’t take much convincing to get him to return the favour later on. Right now she savoured the sounds of sheer delight coming from the elf as he rutted into her over and over. His frantic movements aimed into that sweet spot inside, whether deliberately or by coincidence and she couldn’t help but cry out in pleasure as his every move set her every nerve on fire.

Sudden banging on the front door, loud and urgent, and Modryn stopped abruptly. His distracted growl washed over Evie’s skin, and he stilled as the pair listened.

“Modryn! Evie!” they heard Azzan call from outside. “Get out here now! You’re needed!”

Far from complying, Oreyn only picked up where he left off, pounding into his fiancée just as brutally as before, if not a little more quietly. And Evie, she couldn’t get the shackles off on her own so had no choice but to wait.

“ _D’you think we should see what Azzan wants?_ ” Evie asked. She kept her voice low.

Azzan continued to hammer on the door, calling out and clearly losing more and more patience by the second.

“ _I think he can wait a moment or two longer…_ ” Modryn said. Despite the way he smirked, he panted openly, right on the edge before release would claim him. “ _But I can’t._ ”

Those words were like a pulse of magicka coursing through Evie’s whole body. Oh, she wanted him to come, and hard. She wanted him to enjoy all that she was. They were burning hot together, the heat and sweat was uncomfortable and the banging on the door was so disconcerting yet she didn’t want this moment to end. A high-pitched keen was stifled in the pillow as Modryn’s hand moved from its place on her hip and worried her clit vigorously - _oh I think I might come after all I’m gonna come_ , she thought to herself.

“Oh Modryn, please don’t stop!” she whined, suddenly losing the ability to speak in her fiancé’s tongue and reverting to her own.

A loud CRACK made her jump, and Modryn faltered briefly - the Imperial’s eyes flicked up to the window as her man continued fucking her desperately then they heard it again, and then again- yes, Azzan was now pelting stones at the window.

“Are you in there?” he called again. Frustration was clear in his voice. “One of you _get up!_ I’m _not fooling around!_ ”

Evie jerked and thrashed against her restraints, and Modryn knew what this meant. “ _Don’t let him hear you…_ " he breathed.

He clapped his free hand tight over her mouth just as Evie started to scream into it, the long, anguished howls stifled yet still so loud, she couldn’t help herself, she couldn’t stop, no longer did she have the capacity to do anything other than scream and drink him in. The Imperial was barely aware of Modryn sucking relentlessly on her neck in an effort to hide his own cries, they built and built until he finally broke. He bit hard, nearly hard enough to draw blood as he came, his anguished moan buried in her flesh as his movements slowed and slowed until he was barely rocking into her, and finally halted.

There wasn’t enough time to enjoy this moment together, not this time. That would have to wait. Oreyn pulled out and got to his knees. He grabbed the key, not wasting any time releasing Evie from the restraints, and the two shared the briefest kiss before they threw on their armour as fast as they possibly could.

The pair barrelled through the bedroom door and down the stairs. When Evie caught up to Modryn he already had his mace at his hip, and she dived towards the rack and retrieved Thornblade. Oreyn opened the door while she sheathed the sword and strapped it in place, and the two, still covered in sweat, faces still flushed, greeted a now-furious Azzan.

“Where have you BEEN?” he yelled as they emerged into the sunlit plaza. “THIS IS IMPORTANT!”

Under the heavy steel, his chest and shoulders rose and fell dramatically. His brown eyes, always so gentle, were now alight with rage. Evie recoiled - she’d never seen Azzan quite so angry before. Modryn on the other hand wasn’t at all fazed as he placed a hand on the Redguard’s chest, on top of the armour. Under any other circumstances the Guildmaster would’ve probably gone spare at anyone speaking to him like that - perhaps he didn’t this time because he knew he was at fault. Perhaps he was still a little too relaxed to be mad at anyone.

“I think you need to calm yourself,” he said somewhat darkly as he cast a powerful calming spell on his third-in-command. “I’d like to see what’s so urgent you can’t possibly take care of it in our absence.”

It worked, and it worked instantly. Azzan’s features relaxed entirely, he was rendered more _agitated_ than anything else, and as his gaze dropped briefly to it, he regarded the mark on Evie’s neck that Modryn’s teeth had left with little more than complete indifference.

“I’ll show you,” he said.

He turned from Modryn to Evie. “You both need to come quick, we’ve got an… unwelcome visitor in the Guild hall. I managed to get everyone out - don’t worry, no one’s hurt.”

The Imperial and the Dunmer exchanged looks - he certainly looked as guilty as Evie felt, and together they crossed the plaza to the guild hall, where many of their brothers and sisters stood outside. They all looked shaken - some more than others, and a few looked as though they hadn’t had the time to dress properly before evacuating. Evie felt herself blush as she shot a glance at young Sjorn the Feeble, whose powerful body was covered only by the bed linen around his waist, and felt glad she and Modryn had at least been able to armour up before getting here.

“Azzan, what happened?” Evie asked. Internally, she took a head count as she surveyed the scene.

“I think it’s best if you go see for yourself,” he replied. “He wants…”

He looked to Modryn with concern. “He wants… _you_.”

The Guildmaster only stared back for a moment, his face unreadable. “Come on Evie…” he said gently to his second-in-command, taking hold of her hand and steering her towards the entrance.

It was then she found out what was quite so urgent Azzan couldn’t handle it on his own. The heavy doors were wrecked entirely - both were now little more than splintered wood scattered about the steps, and one hung off a single twisted hinge, swinging back and forth ever so slightly in the breeze. They could hear footfalls inside, pacing with purpose, so heavy and so loud the ground under them seemed to shake with every step. Evie cast a nervous glance up at Modryn, who squeezed her hand in encouragement before letting go and pushing aside the ruined doors. Evie followed, her trepidation growing with every step. She didn’t want to meet who- or whatever, had done this.

A dozen pairs of eyes followed as the relative darkness inside swallowed them up. The floorboards sparkled with the shards of glass from smashed display cabinets, their contents strewn about the foyer. The dining table had been split in two. Both would look back on that day though, and wonder why they noticed these things first and not the source of the footfalls that shook the ground - easily the biggest orc either of them had ever seen.

Evie craned her neck to get a better look at him. He was _godly_. The muscles of his chest and arms were barely contained by the thick Orcish armour that covered his massive frame. The metal was so scratched, charred and otherwise beaten, battered and worn that the characteristic engravings were barely even there any more. In both hands the orc carried an enormous hammer as though the weight of it was nothing at all.

Modryn readied himself in an instant, mace in hand. “You’d better have a damn good reason for all the damage you’ve caused,” he snarled.

Evie unsheathed her own weapon and stood resolutely at her Guildmaster’s side. At times like this, Modryn was fearsome, despite being the smaller of the two men. She was glad to not be on the receiving end of that wrath - in fact, at times like this she truly admired it.

The orc didn’t say a word. His sharp, amber eyes fixed on Modryn, he raised his hammer and charged into the fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... _Corruption and Conscience_ broke my heart. I so wished there was an option to save Aldos. The start of this was based on what happened in my Evie run.
> 
> Fun fact about Modryn - he's actually better with a sword than he is with a mace. I'm not even making this up. Go into the construction set and look at his stats, his Blade is slightly higher than his Blunt.
> 
> (You know you have a crush on a video game character when you're that interested in his exact stats...)
> 
> That was actually the inspiration for having him use the Calm spell, his Illusion is also pretty high apparently.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First thing's first: I'm being VEEEEEERY generous with the description of Malacath in this story. I know there's plenty of monuments in-game that describe him but this is just how I picture him in my head. My logic is that Daedric Princes can manifest however they wish to mortals so this might make a scrap of sense.
> 
> Also being very generous with the amount of E's present in an Orsimer name, I'm aware that letter is used very rarely. ~~My logic is that this is where they've all gone.~~

The orc may have been strong, but he was understandably slow in battle. He swung the warhammer as he charged but Modryn dodged with ease. One of the long spikes on that hammer dragged along the stone wall and gouged a deep groove as the mer whirled around to strike again - Modryn was ready for him, mace held up high, and somehow he had the strength to block the devastating blow.

The Dunmer stumbled back a couple of steps, readying his weapon to finally deal some damage. He might have been weighed down by his equipment too, but he was still so much faster, and he had the edge. His left hand raised and the dark room burst into light that faded as quickly as it came, lit up momentarily by Modryn’s calming spell - judging by the way the orc snarled, advancing again on the Guildmaster, it had had no effect at all.

Evie - ever the analytical fighter, she didn’t attack right away, that wasn’t her style. She watched Modryn dodge and fend off every strike, he got a few good hits in but they merely dented the thick armour. Evie circled, watching the orc’s every move, getting to know the patterns in his assault and forming a mental picture of his own style. Her eyes roved over each and every inch, scanning the armour for openings and weak points, just as she’d been taught since the day she was old enough to hold a sword and shield.

The orc had his back to the Imperial - _big mistake_ , she thought to herself. She raised her weapon, finally, and struck. The blow to the back of the neck took the opponent by surprise, but that was all it did - his skin was as tough as stone it would seem, and her blade barely wounded him.

He rounded on her now, and swung at her. Evie dodged with ease and struck, again and again, she was so much faster and he could never hope to land a single hit. Yet Evie could never hope to bring her foe down. Blood trickled down from pathetic wounds that the orc didn’t even seem to notice and collected in drops on the floor. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Modryn advance again just as the orc swung for him - he wasn’t fast enough this time. The blow from the warhammer knocked him back and he collided hard with the wall. The elf slid down and hit the floor, completely motionless.

“MODRYN!” Evie shrieked.

Time itself seemed to stop for her as she looked upon her fiancé’s still form. She waited for him to get up and rejoin the fray like he always did, but he didn’t move. In her horror Evie stood frozen for so long she nearly took the full force of that damned hammer to the face but she saw the orc coming. There was no way of telling whether Modryn was dead or alive, and in that moment, loathing coursed through her body so strong and so hot her very blood seemed to boil under her skin.

Her actions were no longer her own, she was driven by hate, by a need to see this mer suffer. Analytical approach abandoned entirely, Evie screamed and leaped at the man, clambering on his back in an attempt to topple him but he threw her off with ease. She whirled around and struck over and over as hard as she could with a weapon that couldn’t handle the impact. Every swing of her blade he took in his stride, swatting the girl away like a buzzing insect that wouldn’t leave him be - annoying yet harmless, and that’s exactly what Evie was to him. He blocked a final hit with the handle of his weapon, and Evie saw that the thing glowed green - what kind of hammer could _do that_ to a man? Modryn was tough, and it barely scraped him.

_I should’ve brought the Razor…_

Her thoughts were interrupted by another flash of light. Evie looked to her right - Modryn was up! He was okay! _Really_ okay considering the blow he’d taken - he’d only been paralysed. As a silent tear rolled down the Imperial’s hot, red cheek, the orc stopped in his tracks, surveying the scene as though he’d just come to his senses. The calming spell had worked - this was their chance! Evie swung her shield arm at the man’s confused face, willing more strength into the attack than she ever thought possible and through the power of sheer hate, the force of the blow knocked the orc to the ground.

Modryn was upon him in an instant, stamping hard on the assailant’s throat and not moving. He sneered down at the man with almost as much loathing as Evie did. They stared, nobody saying a word, and quiet, tentative footsteps reached their ears as their guildmates began to file in, keeping back against the walls as they watched the scene. Their masters had this fight, and they knew it.

Part of the Dunmer’s mane clung to his forehead with a generous layer of sweat. His scowl was fierce. “Why do you want me dead?” he growled.

Despite the boot pressing on his throat, the orc grinned a toothy grin, and his laboured laugh was a low rumble like distant thunder.

“TELL HIM!” Evie bellowed.

Around the walls a few people jumped at her outburst but she didn’t care. She still shook so damn violently with rage. She just wanted this man dead.

“Malacath sent me,” the orc said simply. “He wishes it.”

“And he is your master?” Oreyn enquired.

The orc nodded in response. Modryn only drove his boot harder upon the foe’s windpipe, and his scowl deepened. “If Malacath has business with me, he can summon me himself,” he snarled. “We’ll kill any agent he sends to do his dirty work. It’s time to make an example of you.”

In the deathly silence of the foyer, everyone held their breath and the man on the floor struggled for each of his. They came in slow, torturous rasps. Crimson eyes met Evie’s blue.

“Gut him, Evie.”

She readied the blade, addressing the orc, her eyes locked on his. There was no mistaking the way his diamond pupils travelled the length of the sword slowly- not once, but twice, regarding the serrated edges like he was imagining how they might feel to pierce him. They didn’t call it Thornblade for nothing. Evie knew enough about the Orcish way of life to assume this man didn’t _fear_ dying this way… but it would be painful, and he knew it. She moved in for the kill.

“-So you really wanna talk to Malacath?” he asked suddenly, his voice growing weaker by the second.

Evie froze. She lowered her weapon instantly, looking to her Guildmaster questioningly. When all was said and done, whether to hear him out or kill him was Oreyn’s decision to make. She’d carry out his orders, and respect whatever he wanted to do.

“Yes, I do,” Modryn said. “Lead me to him- or him to me… and I might let you live.”

The corners of the orc’s mouth twitched into the faintest grin. “ _Juuuust_ a minute…”

Still trapped under the Dunmer, the orc sprung into action. He removed his gauntlets, kicked off his boots, and unbuckled straps here, there and everywhere on his worn out armour, anything he could reach was loosened, and before anyone watching the scene unfold could question why the orc was _stripping_ , he lurched violently. The heave of his massive torso was strong enough to knock Modryn off balance - he stepped back and off the man on the floor, who rolled over onto hands and knees.

He breathed carefully, deeply, deliberately, like he was trying not to throw up. His limbs trembled, and a shaking hand still scrabbled to loosen the last few buckles holding his cuirass in place but whatever was happening to him took hold before his task was done. He changed. He grew in size. He was morphing right before their very eyes.

As the man got to his knees his already impossible upper body expanded further, the now-too-small cuirass falling away like the shedding shell of some kind of insect and dropping to the floor. Powerful thighs strained at his leather pants and they ripped at the seams and so did his undershirt, revealing skin that changed from a muddy gold to a muted green, numerous tattoos fading out of existence. He stood, the only article of clothing that survived the transformation was his loincloth, hidden under the pants that now lay in shreds about his bare feet.

His nails extended into small but sharp claws, his canines elongated even further, sharpening to fearsome points, his whole face elongated - Evie once saw this happen to a man when he turned into a werewolf - the ebony hair that receded rapidly into his skull now replaced by rows of small horns from his brow to the back of his crown, and when he stood up to full height, seemingly finished (surely there couldn’t be _more_ , Evie wondered with a sense of dread), he grinned down at Modryn with a mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth.

“Hello, _old friend_ …” he said, the grin on his muzzle spreading from ear to ear.

Malacath looked like an orc, he looked like a Dremora, he looked like a _dragon_. He was like all of these beings at once. And he was huge. His vessel might have been the biggest orc they’d ever seen, but Malacath was bigger. Even Modryn, who stood at well over six foot tall had to crane his neck up to look the Daedric Prince in the eye.

“I’m disappointed Kehet couldn’t kill you on his own…” he continued in his raspy, gravelly voice. “I’ll be having words with him. That kind of failure isn’t becoming of a Champion of mine.”

“Malacath…” Modryn spat out the name. He began to circle the immortal. “What do you want with me?”

The Prince laughed. It was an open roar, apocalyptic, and it struck a reminiscent fear in the hearts of everyone around the walls as it reverberated in their bodies. Nobody dared move. They hardly dared to even breathe.

“Surely _you_ of all people would know why I’m here?” Yellow, predatory eyes stared down at the Dunmer, mocking him, as he too began to circle, and the ground really did tremble with each step. Malacath could barely fit under the ceiling. “After all the trouble I’ve had with your family? You can’t become the _master_ of such a successful Guild and not draw _attention_ to yourself!”

“I’ve been the master of this Guild for five years!” Modryn yelled right back. “You’ve known I was alive for _five years_ , so why come for me now?”

Evie stared. She knew everything, of course she did. She knew that her fiancé should be afraid now this day was upon him, and yet, there was no fear in his voice, in his movements. None at all. Oh, how she admired his bravery.

“I am the lord of _vengeance_ …” Malacath replied. One clawed foot - bloodied by the broken glass around the room yet still completely unharmed, set upon the first step of the staircase, and he began to climb slowly. “And _you_ have always been humble. There would be no satisfaction in killing you. So I allowed you to live. But this…”

He gestured with a sweep of his hand to the large cabinet atop the first flight of stairs. It was the only one in sight that wasn’t smashed. Inside on a wooden pedestal sat the Helm of Oreyn Bearclaw, its surface practically sparkling in the limited light. _Polished two days ago_ , Evie recalled. She’d been the one to do it, after all.

“THIS IS AN _INSULT!_ ” he roared. “I gave you the benefit of the doubt! I gave you a second chance - and THIS IS WHAT YOU DID WITH IT! YOU PARADE ABOUT YOUR ANCESTORS’ LIES, YOU **CELEBRATE THEIR LIES!** ”

“It- it was my idea,” Evie interjected timidly.

Malacath’s head snapped in her direction, his snarling, dragon-like face terrifying.

“I thought it might be… useful to loan it to our guildmates. We didn’t think about it as a celebration of- what I mean is… I didn’t mean any disrespect. We did it for our own reasons.”

Sharp teeth still bared, he looked Evie over with the same greed in his features that a mortal might have while surveying a particularly delicious banquet. His whole body turned in her direction, and those glowing eyes followed her as she returned to Modryn’s side.

“And who is _this?_ ” he asked slowly. He moved back down the stairs.

“Evie… -Cenitus.” Her voice shook as she trembled, the massive immortal coming closer and closer, still staring at her as though about to swallow her whole. She felt Oreyn’s fingers weave between her own, and his hand close about hers. “I’m second-in-command here. Like Modryn, I organise contracts and I make important decisions. This one was all mine. Please don’t blame him for my mistake.”

Malacath stared at the mortals with abject fascination, circling again, inspecting what he saw. Wide nostrils flared as he inhaled the air deeply - the smell of sex and sweat still hung heavy about them, strong enough for any mortal to notice, and to the Prince, it was overwhelming.

“This…” the Daedroth spoke to Modryn and gestured to Evie. “This is _your_ girl?”

“More than just my _girl_ ,” Modryn said. “We’ll be married soon.”

It was a couple of seconds before Malacath let out another hearty laugh that nearly shattered the windows.

“SOMEONE fell on his FEET!” the immortal cried. He clapped a hand on Modryn’s shoulder, and testament to him, the elf only stepped back a little, still glaring at his enemy. “I mean, _look at her!_ You must’ve been getting on even before this one was _born!_ What did you do to bag a girl so- I didn’t expect her to be so _young_ and _beautiful!_ ”

He hesitated a moment. “I know that name… Cenitus… a rising star of the Arena once, wasn’t she?”

“That was a long time ago,” Evie said. The hand that held onto hers squeezed a little tighter, and those cruel yellow eyes flicked across to meet hers.

“Yes… she has her share of secrets she hides from the world. The girl whose parents were so keen to turn a profit on her… they bet everything on her last match. They bet that she would die.”

When Evie’s breath caught in her chest, Malacath’s malicious smile only grew wider.

“Oh yes…” he continued. “Who among your brothers even _knew_ this? It would’ve been _so easy_ for them to pull you from that final match… if they believed so strongly you wouldn’t survive.”

“Indeed, but I did,” Evie snapped. “I won, I hit the road, and didn’t look back. Stopped at the first city on that path… and I’ve been here ever since. How do you know all of this?”

“A mortal’s world is far too small. Mine is more than you could ever imagine.”

“ _What do you WANT with us?_ ” Modryn repeated, every word sharp enough to kill. It was time to end this.

“I only want you to pay for this insult to me…” Again, his muzzle turned in the direction of the Helm. “Death is the usual price, so if you want to say your goodbyes-”

Evie’s sword was unsheathed and in her hand in an instant. “You won’t kill him if I have anything to say about it!” she said fiercely.

Now she had the immortal’s full attention. He always seemed to look at her like she was wounded prey, and he was about to deal the killing blow. “You really do love Oreyn… don’t you?” he asked gently.

Evie nodded resolutely.

“And that love has made you so stupid you’d challenge _me_ in battle?”

“Yup,” she said simply. “Practically brain-dead. I’d die for him.”

“No one will be dying today!” Modryn interjected sternly, his red eyes fixed on his fiancée.

Malacath hesitated, his fearsome head tilted back a little in contemplation. “…You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Malacath, you will not kill her!”

The Daedroth ignored him for the most part, his attention still focused entirely on Evie. “Relax, Oreyn… I’m sure we can work out a solution we _all_ agree on…”

He grinned widely again. Oh, Nine, those teeth really were sharp. “Tell me, _Evie Cenitus_ … how would you like to save dear Oreyn’s life?”

“I’ll do anything to end this.”

“That’s what I like to hear!”

He looked back to Modryn. “In return for your safety, I want to do whatever _I_ want to the thing that matters most to _you_.”

“And what might that be?” Modryn asked. The obvious fear growing in his features told the whole room that he already knew what Malacath was talking about. The Guild was an obvious choice, of course, yet not even a Daedric Prince could take down an entire _Guild_ without upsetting the natural balance of things, and that left only one other option…

“The girl. A single night with her, and your debt to me is paid.”

“What makes you think I’d EVER agree to-”

“I’ll do it,” Evie said immediately, resolutely.

Both heads whipped in her direction. Modryn was stunned. Malacath grinned widely.

“I said I’d do anything to end it, didn’t I? If you spare Modryn, I’ll do it.”

“A woman of her word,” Malacath said with a wicked growl. “I like that. Take your time, talk it over… decide. For now the Ashpit calls me… I’ll be back for _one of you_ soon enough…”

Then, as suddenly as he’d morphed into the Daedric Lord, the transformation reversed. Horns and claws retracted, muzzle disappearing into his skull and becoming again the Orcish face they’d first met barely any time ago. Bold tattoos faded back onto exposed, darkening skin. Limbs shrunk - the whole body did, until it was again Malacath’s Champion that stood before the room, his unfocused amber eyes made it clear to everyone that he wasn’t quite all there yet.

Kehet stood for a few seconds on uneasy, trembling legs, still not apparently conscious, before promptly collapsing where he stood. He didn’t move after that.

They registered Azzan’s voice as he bellowed for someone to get a healer, they saw shapes out of the corners of their eyes that were probably their brothers and sisters rushing to Kehet’s aid. The room - the Guild, sprung into action around them yet to Evie and Modryn it was all just a blur, and it was all something they couldn't care less about in that moment. At first when the Imperial’s lips parted, the only sounds that came out were those of her careful breaths, ragged as she trembled in fear.

“What are we going to _do?_ ”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conversation-heavy chapter.
> 
> Again any Dunmeris is all italicised.

Modryn Oreyn was a very private man, and the fact that the entirety of Chorrol knew exactly what was happening between Evie, the Daedric Lord and himself bothered him - quite understandably. Given how many people were there to witness it first-hand… it would’ve been impossible to stop the events becoming hot gossip for the whole city. A handful of people had offered words of support and encouragement, and even advice, and of course most had been scared away by the Guildmaster’s unrivalled ferocity. Since he’d shouted _them_ out, nobody had tried to help.

Of all the people in the know, there was one man who didn’t have a clue what was happening around him. On the first floor of the Guild hall, Evie Cenitus approached the bed where Kehet now sat. He’d woken, bathed, eaten a full breakfast and now he sat on his bed looking like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. Aside from his obvious role as the middle-man in the dispute, there would be work for him to do while he stayed in Chorrol. He’d stay with the Guild and complete contracts until he’d paid for the damage he’d caused. He’d do that, and help repair it too. For now, however, Modryn and his second had decided to let him recover from his own ordeal before getting his hands dirty again - despite Kehet insisting he was perfectly able as soon as he came to.

The Daedric Champion had recovered some six hours after returning to his own form, and he’d mentioned to Evie that it was always the same, every time. He remembered nothing, and sometimes when Malacath called upon this particular service (which was thankfully not all that often) he lost days at a time. Sometimes even weeks. As Evie knelt down to address him, she found herself feeling deeply sorry for the orc.

Her cold blue eyes met his warm amber, and as they did he looked away nervously, and reached for Volendrung. With a clean cloth in the other hand, he began to polish the warhammer with care, and Evie let him, and watched him curiously. She’d never met a timid orc before. He wasn’t like any Orsimer she’d _ever_ met before.

“How are you feeling?” she asked gently. She’d wanted him dead only two days prior to this but quickly came to see him as just as much a victim in this whole ordeal as Modryn was. Maybe even more so. If Malacath held up his end of the arrangement, they would be free of him soon enough. Kehet never would be.

“Fine, thank you,” he replied politely, still focusing all his attention on Volendrung, and the two sat and knelt in silence for a short while in the otherwise empty space.

“One of the others said you wanted to come talk to me about everything,” he finally said, fairly bluntly.

Evie nodded, her movements hesitant. “It’s only fair I keep you in the loop,” she said. “Given how… how intimately you’re involved in all of this. And how you can’t remember…”

The orc looked up. “It’s not the first time, if that makes you feel any better,” he offered. “Far from it, actually. This kind of thing happens a lot… because of what I am, I tend to become a part of things that aren’t my business.”

“It must be hard… being a Daedric Champion. I’ve never given it much thought before you came along. Is it?”

“It’s not easy, that’s for damn sure. There’s rules… and responsibilities. Malacath asks something of me, I gotta go do it. Like coming here to try kill Modryn - what did _I_ care if he lived or not? But the hardest part of it? The life you build for yourself comes crashing down around you. Nothing’s the same after.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for starters… living among my own is impossible.”

“You’re not allowed to live with other orcs?”

Kehet shook his head. “Not that I’m not _allowed_ , it’s just not possible. Being Malacath’s Champion, that’s a pretty enviable position for any orc. The ones who don’t push me away, they think they can take my place by killing me. You can see the obvious problems with just sleeping around them. And that… that’s the tip of the iceberg, that is. Imagine walking into a Leyawiin tavern to buy yourself a drink, blacking out, waking up _three weeks later_ in the dirt outside _Raven Rock_ , of all places…”

Kehet chuckled briefly as though the memory amused him, but quickly his dark expression returned. “Imagine waking up to find there’s a four-thousand Septim bounty on _your_ head in Raven Rock alone… just because they saw where _he_ came from.”

He jabbed a thumb in the middle of his own massive chest.

“And not knowing _what_ happened while you were out. So to answer your question, yes, it’s hard. But I do it all gladly. This is the life I chose… and it’s worth it.”

“How? Forgive me if I sound rude, but what could possibly be worth all that?”

Kehet offered her a look of reassurance. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Let’s just say Malacath looks after his friends.”

“I’d assumed that much…” Evie said with a smirk, before reaching over and grasping Volendrung’s warm handle in both hands. With some difficulty, she set the weapon aside so she had the orc’s full attention. “What do you know already? About what’s going on?”

“Malacath told me the same thing he told the last Champion - about Oreyn Bearclaw the fraud, and how he wanted the whole family wiped out. What he told _me_ is he never cared much about Modryn any more because his accomplishments were his own. That he didn’t use his name to get anywhere. He told me he wanted me to go kill him now because _that_ had suddenly changed. Kill him, and bring back the old Helm.”

“It’s my fault,” Evie said, and the regret was clear in her voice. “I was the one who wanted to display it. For me the Helm was never about Modryn’s ancestors… it was about _us_. That’s why I have to make this right.”

Kehet’s sharp eyes were wide. “He’s gonna kill _you_ instead?”

“No… thank the Nine. He only asked one night. With me.”

“So he’s using _my_ body to…”

“In a way, yes. Let’s try not to think about it like that. If there was another way out we’d take it.”

“I gotta admit, this is a new one,” Kehet replied. His eyes were fearful. “I don’t think he’s ever used me to _bed_ anyone before. At least not that I know.”

Both heads turned at the sound of footfalls on the staircase, coming closer to them. Modryn stopped next to Evie, and stared down at the orc with pure hatred burning in his eyes. Now that he was here, it was time to get started.

Under that gaze Kehet seemed to wilt. He was genuinely afraid of Modryn, and for good reason. He addressed Evie, placing a strong hand over her more delicate one. “For what it’s worth I’m sorry,” he said to her. “I’m so sorry. Are you gonna be all right?”

Evie smiled warmly and squeezed his hand once. It was odd, she thought. The emotion in his voice and his words seemed ill-matched to what she’d told him. _Of course_ she didn’t want to sleep with any man other than Modryn - least of all Malacath. They _all_ knew that, and they knew it wouldn’t be all that pleasant. But to her, there was nothing in it but the end goal. Nothing at all. “I’ll be fine. C’mon Kehet… let’s get this over with. If you will?”

Horror washed over his features. “What- we’re doing it _now?_ ” he cried.

“No, not now. There’s things that need to be discussed if I’m doing this.” 

She stood. “Please?”

She didn’t want to rush him, she was unable to imagine not only how it might feel to make this transformation, but how much of a toll it must take on the man. Especially when it was asked of him so soon after the last time. Despite Kehet maintaining he was quite used to it, Evie couldn’t help but feel guilty as she watched him stand and dutifully remove his clothing, until he was again clad in just that elaborate loincloth at his waist.

Again the orc shook, again his legs too weak to support him, and again he changed before the pair. Kehet never made a sound, and aside from the rather visceral noises coming from his body as teeth, horns, bone and muscle grew in the space of less than a full minute, the whole process was unnervingly quiet until that monstrous growl reverberated around the room.

Malacath stared down at the Guild leaders with a smirk on his face. “You called for me?”

“Let’s do this,” Modryn said coldly. He gestured for the immortal to follow, and turned to climb the stairs to the top floor. Evie cast a tentative glance to her right, and followed after Malacath.

When they were all stood around the table, Modryn gestured for the immortal to take a seat. After he refused it, neither of the Guild leaders chose to sit down either.

Malacath folded his arms across his powerful chest. “So what’s this, Oreyn… you want to talk _terms_ , am I right?”

“Of course we want to talk terms,” Modryn snapped back. He exhaled, and turned to Evie. He spoke much more calmly to her. “You might want to take a note of all this.”

“How about I just kill you now?” the Daedroth said. The amusement was clear on his warped features. “I should kill you for having the audacity to demand _terms_.”

“Modryn aside, maybe I’ve earned that right,” Evie suggested, trying to find the most polite words possible. “After all, we’ve been good to your Champion. We could’ve killed him at any time he was out cold, but we didn’t. Instead we’ve fed him and given him a place to stay.”

Malacath looked off at a point past the Imperial’s shoulder, apparently deliberating hard. “Smart girl, this one,” he eventually said, speaking to Modryn. “She has a point… she’s earned your terms. What do you want?”

Evie snatched up a roll of parchment and quill while Modryn sat on the edge of the table. “When you’re done with Evie, you leave us alone. Myself, Evie, any children we go on to have, any _they_ go on to have, and so on. After this, it’s all over.”

Evie wrote as fast as she could. “And we get to keep the Helm,” she interjected.

Oreyn nodded once. “And we keep the Helm,” he repeated. “Is that acceptable?”

Malacath shrugged his massive shoulders, disinterested. “That was all a given.”

“Don’t kill her.”

 _Evie must not be killed._ The Imperial wrote those five words and stared down at them. The first glimmer of true unease churned away inside her.

“If you insist,” Malacath’s deep rasp took her straight out of her reverie. “Anything else?”

The Dunmer looked over to his fiancée, and for a while they only stared into each other’s eyes. Quickly his attention returned to the immortal. “We want to start a family some day,” he said. “Make sure she’s still able to.”

“Don’t break what I use. Got it.”

She paraphrased. _Evie’s ability to bear a child must not be damaged by the act(s)._ That uneasy glimmer turned into a chill that ran up her spine.

“For all of this… I get to do whatever I want to her,” Malacath continued. “And she’ll come to my realm for the duration.”

“That’s not possible,” Modryn said, very simply.

“I… don’t mind that term,” Evie said. She finished her sentence. The words were now a messy scrawl that only she might be able to read. _The act(s) to be performed in the Ashpit._

“ _You don’t use magic, Evie, you never have, you wouldn’t be able to breathe in the Ashpit,_ ” Modryn said in his native tongue.

“Oh…” she scratched out her last sentence and looked up at Malacath. “Where else then?”

“Forget it,” he snapped. “Figure that out yourself. That better be all.”

The Imperial and the Dunmer looked at each other again, deciding without words that there was nothing more they could do. Evie looked back down at her shaky writing and quickly realised that was not true.

“I have one more,” she said timidly.

The Daedroth growled in frustration. He visibly smouldered, and it was clear to the Guild leaders that their increasing demands were testing his patience to the limit. Still, Evie knew she needed this final protection.

“I want to bring my own protection. Anything I want to protect me… enchantments, potions, spells…”

She trailed off, watching Malacath’s terrifying face for any sign of emotion. As if only to savour the moment he had to torture her, he didn’t speak for a long time. As his yellow gaze bored into her, the silence was agony.

“Fine.” he grunted.

Only when Evie exhaled did she realise she’d been holding her breath the whole time. “…Thank you…” she said.

The immortal glared as she continued to write, her hand still sufficiently shaky that the words were barely legible. “I hope you mortals appreciate how _generous_ I’ve been with my time. Next time I see either of you, I better get what I want. Or I’ll kill you both.”

Evie nodded frantically while Modryn still stared his enemy down, that same loathing burning in his eyes.

“You have a week to prepare. Get what you need, _Evie Cenitus_ … and I’ll come for you. If you’re not ready to pay Oreyn’s debt by then, it’s not my problem.”

He gave no warning when he departed. Evie only realised the Daedric Prince was returning his Champion to them when his dragon-like muzzle retracted and those horns of his began to recede… and that sickening sound filled the air again. The Imperial crossed the room and threw herself onto her fiancé, buried her face in the crook of his neck. After placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, Modryn held her close.

“ _Are you all right?_ ” he asked, a whisper into her ear. Neither looked up when they heard Kehet collapse or felt the floor shake under him, and this time, nobody rushed to help him. He was fine, they knew that now.

Evie opened her eyes but focused on nothing. She breathed in Modryn’s scent, deep in thought. “ _A week is hardly enough time to prepare…_ ” she said. “ _You saying it yourself, I don’t have any magicka. And how number healing potions could I possibly gather in a_ week?”

“ _Everyone has magicka_ ,” the Dunmer pointed out. Even as he said it, he realised how little that actually mattered right now.

“ _I’ll move see the mages, possible they can teach me something._ ”

She lifted her head, and met Modryn’s eyes. “ _Can I take some time off for that?_ ”

Oreyn sighed, looking at the girl as though she was stupid for asking that. “ _Of course you can. We’re not busy right now… take as much time as you need._ ”

He stood, and gently eased his fiancée off his body. “ _Go now. Don’t waste another minute here._ ”

She nodded resolutely, and turned to leave. Before she set her foot on the first step, she froze and turned back to her Guildmaster. “…You’re okay, right?”

Modryn didn’t say anything while he closed the distance between them. He pulled her in for a gentle embrace and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be fine as long as you’re okay. We’ll get through this. Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unrelated to the story, but I've been trying to create a mod that allows me to recruit Modryn (and Farwil Indarys) as a follower.
> 
> It's not going well ='D
> 
> I figured out that if you console Farwil (of the 2, he's my lab rat) into Knights of the Nine you can get him to follow you, but you can't dismiss him. I don't know how viable that workaround is in the long-term though. Interestingly enough if he follows you, Bremman Senyan follows _him_ so you get 2 ~~handsome~~ followers at once.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I've done this right.
> 
> Also I try not to do this often but the second part of this chapter (when they're talking at home) has a song. _Never Forget You_ by Zara Larsson.

Evie Cenitus left the Guild hall at six in the evening, which was a fairly normal time for her to retire for the day. However, for the last four nights it hadn’t been the Fighters’ Guild hall she’d walked out of. Again, she’d spent the whole day with the mages. Evie had been a valuable customer - and friend - to the Mages’ Guild for a long time now, so when she’d come to them asking for help, Teekeeus himself had put aside his whole week to help her learn.

The Argonian prioritised two types of spell for her situation - protection and healing. And for someone with no magical talent or experience _whatsoever_ , she’d come a long way in those three days. He held the door open for her as she left, carrying on her back a knapsack, heavy with healing potions. Angalmo had offered them to her free of charge. It was all he could make at such short notice with the ingredients at hand, he’d said, and yet Evie struggled to carry them all as she breathed in the cool evening air. Teekeeus watched her go, down the street, hoping in his heart that she’d be ready when the time came.

When the Imperial opened the door and entered the Gray Mare, she dropped the knapsack straight on the floor, and huffed in relief as she allowed herself a period of respite from the weight. She scanned the room quickly - Emfrid wasn’t at the bar, but she’d be around somewhere. In a far corner of the dark room, she spotted Honditar, and made straight for him.

The elf looked up as Evie’s shadow covered his form, blocking the firelight, and he smiled warmly at his friend.

“Evie, it’s good to see you,” he said gently. He pulled a chair out. “Come, join me.”

She hadn’t come to the tavern for a drink. She’d only come in for bread (she and Modryn had most of their meals with the Guild - which were paid for by the Guild and therefore came out of their paychecks, but it was still nice to have something at home). In fact, she rarely drank anything alcoholic at all. But still, she took the seat next to the Altmer, deciding that she could quite do with a drink tonight.

“I was hoping you’d be around,” Evie got straight to the point.

Honditar’s eyebrows raised, curious, as he took another swig of his ale.

“You asked if there was any way you could help us.”

He sat up straighter. “I did.”

“There is one thing you could provide us… and I’m afraid it’s possibly the worst thing I’ve had to ask of anyone.”

Honditar chuckled. “Name it, Evie,” he said. “Name it and it’s yours.”

“We’re in need of a… uh…”

She didn’t really know how to say it.

“A rendezvous.”

“A place to settle the score,” the mer said calmly. He was entirely unfazed.

Evie couldn’t quite meet his eye. “You put it far better than I ever could, but, yes… I loathe that I’m asking you for your own bed for this, but it would be quiet there… far away from everyone here… better for everyone if they couldn’t hear anything, I’d say. You can stay at ours while we’re there… you’re more than welcome to refuse-”

A strong, golden hand closed over both of hers that rested in her lap. When she finally looked up, Honditar’s expression was stern. Shadows from the low, flickering light danced over the lines of his face. “Evie… don’t even start on that. Of course you can use my bed.”

“Thanks Honditar… I’m truly grateful for this. We both are. I know Modryn doesn’t like to talk about it but he appreciates the help even more than I do.”

*

*

Evie bought herself a single bottle of cheap wine, but barely drank half as the pair sat and talked. It wasn’t a matter of not wanting the drink, but a matter of wanting to get home some time before nightfall. She’d been practicing so hard the last couple of days she’d barely even seen Modryn - coming home to find him already fast asleep, settling in close to him and sharing only those brief moments of waking together, and fucking quickly if they had the time, before they started all over.

“I better get going,” she finally said. “I want to spend some time with Modryn before we sleep.”

Honditar nodded in understanding. He lifted his third ale of the night to her, and drank. “Take care, friend.”

She left him to it, and approached Emfrid where she stood, and as she did the thick smell of woodsmoke was overwhelmed completely by that of the loaf of fresh bread waiting for her on the bar. Evie placed a few coins next to it in exchange, and her hands closed around the soft loaf.

“Wait, Evie,” Emfrid said. She reached into a pocket as she spoke. “I’ve been hearing all sorts from everyone and I heard you had a need for certain items…”

Evie watched with interest as the Nord pulled a dull metal necklace from her pocket. As she held the bronze pendant, the chain dropped from her hand with a clink and swung unsupported.

“I want you to have this,” the blond said, and held it out for Evie to take. The Imperial grasped hold of the warm metal. “It was a gift from a sweetheart way back when, and I’ve never been one for jewellery… better it help _you_ out than go to waste at the back of my dresser. It’s enchanted.”

Evie looked down at the small pendant, the fingers of her left hand grazing over it tenderly. It was shaped like a flower - what kind, she didn’t know. A better alchemist would be able to tell her. She was about to ask what the enchantment was when the tiny, ruby red stone in the middle, sparkling in the light caught her eye. More often than not, that meant only one thing.

“It’s a health enchantment, right?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah, fortify. You do need stuff like that… right?”

“Yes, Emfrid… I need all the protection I can get, and this will go a long way….”

Before she knew what she was doing, Evie moved around the bar and threw herself onto the innkeeper, holding her in a tight embrace.

She was taken aback. “Evie-”

“I can’t thank you enough…” Evie said, the emotion clear in her voice. Tears pricked at her eyes and she shut them tight. Emfrid placed a hand, uncomfortable, on her back. “For everything. Not just this… if it wasn’t for you… Modryn and I might not even be together…”

Emfrid smiled to herself as she recalled the night in question. How utterly pitiful Evie had been that night. She hadn’t known at the time just how pivotal her words to her had been.

She patted Evie’s back as gently as a Nord could. “Pleasure’s all mine,” she said simply, and broke away. “Now go home. Go to him. If I can help in any other way just holler.”

“I will. Bye Emfrid…”

With that, Evie stowed the pendant in her pants pocket, took the bread under one arm, and left the tavern, hauling the heavy knapsack back onto her shoulder as she stepped out into the dying day. It was a cool evening, and the walk home wasn’t long. When she finally staggered in through the door, Evie was thrilled to find Modryn already there, despite the fact that he’d spent the last couple of days working late in her absence.

“Darling…”

The girl dropped the knapsack with little care, its contents clinking together as they settled. She walked over and kissed her fiancé before setting the bread loaf on the table.

“Evie…” Modryn whispered, pulling his girl in for a longer embrace. He held her for a while. “How was practice?”

“I’m doing well… at least that’s what Teekeeus says.”

Modryn smiled his wry smile. “Sounds to me like you’re just about ready to jump ship and trade Guilds…”

Evie chuckled, nuzzling into the Dunmer’s warm body as he held her. A hand brushed up his strong chest and stayed there. “Oh, please,” she said. “I could never be a mage. I can’t spend my time sitting and reading… it all bores me. I need to be out there doing something, getting things done.”

“ _I’m glad I’m not losing the best second I could hope for to a group of mages._ ” Modryn squeezed her tight, and his gaze lifted to the sagging knapsack at the door. “ _What’s in the bag?_ ”

“ _Healing potions. Angalmo said he’d make more if he gets enough ingredients before the time._ ”

Modryn’s face was unreadable. He said nothing at first. “ _Tell him I appreciate it._ ”

“ _Of course._ ”

Evie shifted so she could reach in her pocket without breaking away. “Emfrid gave me this too,” she said, holding up the pendant so her fiancé could see. “Fortify health, she said. I’ll go put it with the others.”

Again, Modryn was silent as he thought about the growing mountain of enchanted items in their dresser. Some had been gifted by those like Emfrid who were trying to help a beloved member of the community. Others, they’d sourced themselves. Now Modryn looked back on the way they’d contracted their own fighters to search the neighbouring cities for anything that might help, it was an abuse of power. But they were desperate, and their Guild brothers had been happy to oblige.

When Evie broke away and made for the stairs, Modryn’s gentle grip travelled along her shoulder and down her arm, and he held her hand tight.

“Evie…” he began.

The Imperial stopped and turned.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

“Don’t do it,” he blurted out. “I don’t want you to do this.”

“I must,” Evie said very simply, entirely unfazed. “It’s the only way… I hate it just as much as you do.”

She walked back to him. “You know I’d never so much as _look_ at another man… right? It’s you I love. I want only you-”

“You think that’s what this is about?” Modryn found himself laughing derisively. “You still think it’s about sex? I didn’t think you were so naive… don’t make the mistake of thinking Malacath sees anything _special_ in you, Evie. He’s using you to get under my skin, I thought you’d figured that out by now.”

“I… know that-”

“ _Why do you think I made a point to ask him not to_ kill _you? He wants you to suffer. Trust me, Evie, this will be the worst experience of your life. Take the Deadlands… take that and multiply it. I don’t want you to go through that for me._ Please.”

“ _What other choice do we have? I’m doing it for you, if it was anything else, anyone else, I wouldn’t do it. There’s_ no other way _, darling._ ”

“ _There is another way._ ” As the elf pulled his girl close again, he looked off at a point above her head. “ _We can end this now._ ”

Evie looked up at him. “ _What else can we do? Why didn’t you bring it up before now?_ ”

He didn’t look at her as he spoke. “ _You’re not going to like it. Malacath wants to end the Oreyn name, I’ll let him. I’ll offer myself to him. After that he’ll have no interest in you. It will all be over._ ”

“ _No._ ” The word was simple and final, and Evie shook her head rapidly against Modryn’s chest. “ _I wouldn’t let you do that._ ”

“ _It’s the only way I can keep you safe._ ”

“ _Oh, you’re serious._ ” A chill ran through Evie’s veins and flooded her very fingers. She pulled herself away from his embrace in utter shock. “ _Why are you so much as _suggest_ that? You can’t sacrifice yourself!_ ”

“ _I can, and I will._ ”

The hand around Emfrid’s pendant was balled into a fist, the edges dug into her skin but she didn’t care. “ _What… what by? What…_ ”

Evie stopped, took a deep breath, and continued in her own tongue. “What for? You’d die just so I didn’t have to endure _one night_ of suffering?”

“It’s not _one night_ , and you know it!” Modryn yelled. “You do this in my name, and where does it end? It was the Hist Sap first, after Kvatch you promised it would end! If I don’t take control of this now, you’ll _never_ stop!”

“Why’s it so important to you that nothing bad happens to me?” Evie yelled right back. “I’m a part of the Fighters’ Guild, you can’t stop me from ever getting hurt!”

“ _YOU WEREN’T THERE, EVIE! IF YOU’D DIED IT WOULD’VE BEEN MY FAULT!_ ”

A ringing silence filled the room. Modryn growled viciously and turned away. He set both hands on the table. “ _Nobody thought you’d pull through. You can’t possibly imagine how it felt to see you like that. Not knowing whether you’d live or die._ ”

Evie stared. She knew exactly what he was talking about, of course, and in a way he was right. She hadn’t been there. All she could recall was drinking the Hist Sap like the others did, blacking out and waking up in Modryn’s cabin - admittedly not feeling one-hundred percent. Modryn’s version of events must’ve been far different. When the two of them had taken down the Blackwood Company together, he had taken the chance to interrogate the ones Evie recognised, and they found out what happened.

They’d been contracted to clear out a settlement, and the new recruits had all been curious to see what Evie could do. As it turned out, she did nothing at all - it was impossible to raise her sword when it took all her energy to drag herself through the mud, struggling to breathe. The recruits paid her no real attention as they did their job, however when they returned to where they’d last seen her she wasn’t moving at all. They panicked, not knowing what to do. They all learned that day that some people had a nasty reaction to the Sap, and when they dumped Evie in a quiet corner of the city, she was barely breathing at all.

The two of them hadn’t talked about it all that much. When she’d come to, Evie’s heart skipped a beat when those perfect red eyes and that handsome face were the first thing she saw. Concern lit up his features for a moment yet quickly his usual scowl returned when he realised Evie was okay. “You’re awake. Good,” was what he’d said, or something to that extent. He’d gotten the details out of her, found out exactly how she wound up in that state, and that was the end of that.

“ _You were out for days, Evie,_ ” Modryn said, interrupting her reverie. “ _The healers couldn’t do anything, the doctors couldn’t do anything… all we could do was wait and see. I never left your side._ ”

When her Guild brothers had told her how worried Modryn had been, she’d chalked it up to guilt. After all, it was his idea and he was right - if she’d died he’d have been the one to blame. The ferocity in his every move as they took out every member of the rival Guild, she didn’t think it was retribution until now. And the sheer hate burning in his eyes as they set fire to that tree - she thought it was passion. She had no idea he cared that much about her back then.

“I…” Evie began. She placed a hand on her fiancé’s back. “We can’t change what happened. You weren’t to know I’d have that kind of reaction to _anything_. Neither was I. And what does it matter? I’m okay now.”

Oreyn stood up straight and turned to her. One hand brushed under the hem of her tunic, lifting up the fabric, revealing pale skin and a stomach as flat as a board as his fingers came to trail over the wide scars under her navel. “ _Kvatch… only months after that._ ”

“And I got out of there, I don’t think about it now-”

“There will always be something. Unless I act now you’ll never stop… you’ve suffered enough for me.”

The resignation in his voice and the look on his face, dead serious, was too much for Evie to bear. He’d made up his mind, probably long before they stood here now. “You can’t die. Please… this will be the last time- I- if I- we’ll forget all about it in time…”

By now she was hyperventilating, every quick and desperate breath a struggle. Modryn took her hand and held her tight. He shushed over and over, trying to calm her down.

“I don’t fear death,” he said in a gentle whisper as Evie burst into tears, her shoulders heaving as she sobbed against his chest. “I have a whole family waiting for me. And you’ll be okay, our brothers will look after you, I know they will-”

“How can you say I’ll be okay?” Evie wailed. “YOU PROMISED ME A LIFETIME, MODRYN!”

She tried to pull herself away but he was too strong, his hold on her body only tighter.

“Sometimes things don’t work out that way.”

“We’ve only just found each other…” it was hard for the girl to talk at all between heavy sobs. “How can I lose you when we’ve _only just found each other?_ I love you… _please_ …”

He raised the hand he still held onto and quickly kissed each knuckle in turn. “Listen to me… I love you more than life itself but perhaps we weren’t meant to be together. Be strong, Evie... I know you can do that. Don’t wait for me. You’re so young… you have a whole life ahead of you so don’t waste it.”

They stayed like that for quite a while, the Imperial bawling just as hard while the Dunmer simply held her, waiting. It was a long time before Evie calmed down enough to talk.

“I’ll-- I’ll never forget you…” she finally said. “You’re the best thing that-- that ever happened to me.”

“Know that I’ll always watch over you. Wherever you are, I’ll be there in a way.”

She looked up at him. “Without you… there’s-- there’s nothing.”

“It will feel like that at first… but in time you’ll move on. You’ll love again.”

“I don’t _want_ \-- to love anyone-- else.”

There was nothing he could say after that. Modryn sighed quietly, ears drooped in sadness. This wasn’t exactly easy for him either… Evie might not see it that way since he’d never been anywhere near as _emotional_ as her, but his heart was breaking too. It was probably the hardest thing he’d ever had to do - not sacrificing himself, no… he wasn’t afraid of that and it really was a long time coming - but letting her go.

“ _Come, Evie,_ ” he whispered. “ _We shouldn’t spend our last days together upset. Come to bed. Maybe this will be easier in the morning._ ”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this is **the** chapter.
> 
> Leading up to this I didn't know whether I was gonna write the actual scene or not. In the end I came up with this. I _personally_ feel like it's too tame but maybe I'm wrong... while I was writing it I kept thinking about how fucking dark it was getting.
> 
> Big shout out to my friend Feste who helped me a lot with some of the dialogue in the crucial scene! *virtual fist-bump*

Evie sighed to herself as she washed the dirt off her skin. She looked up from the bath water and out the window, watching the rain pouring steadily from a miserable sky. She paused for a moment, and the room - no, the whole house - was unnervingly quiet, save for the hiss of the rain outside as it fell. Modryn wasn’t home, he was still in the Guild hall, _getting his affairs in order_ , as he’d put it, and Evie, she’d just come back from a contract.

She was back on contracts instead of practicing with the mages. Since she wouldn’t be settling his score with Malacath after all, there was no reason she should keep spending her time there. And in a couple of days she’d inherit the Guild. She still didn’t know what she’d possibly say after the time… how she’d break the news to the others. They’d decided not to tell anyone until it was all over.

 _Damn him_ , Evie thought to herself, bitter as she rose from the now-cold water, stepped out the bathtub and grabbed a cloth to dry off with. _Damn him always needing to be in control! He’d give up his own_ life _\- just to stay in control!_ Not that it really mattered though… Evie finished drying herself, pulled on a fresh pair of pants and tunic, and wrung out the wet ends of her long hair. Modryn wouldn’t be sacrificing himself - not if she had anything to say about it.

She pulled on a pair of boots and left the room, crossing the landing into the bedroom where she opened a drawer in the dresser. She stared down at the pile of rings and bracelets for a moment before putting them on, one by one. How unbearable it must’ve felt to be that powerless, that _helpless_ … to feel like dying was the better option… Evie had never been anywhere near as _proud_ as Modryn so that helpless feeling didn’t rub her quite the same way. She’d never understand.

But they’d forget about it all in time. Everyone would.

Sufficiently laden with a wide variety of enchanted metals on all different parts of her body, Evie grabbed her heavy knapsack and left the house. Right now a meteor could land right where she stood and she was confident she’d survive it… perhaps she didn’t need to wear quite as much as she did. She made the short walk from home, across the plaza to the Guild hall where she knew Kehet would be - he’d only been given one contract so far, and for now they were keeping him close by, giving him repair jobs to concentrate on. Malacath would come for them any moment now and they wanted him to be near when that happened.

Evie pushed open a set of brand new doors - Kehet had taken to his task with enthusiasm. He worked quickly, and he was so strong… he could haul about more than anyone else. And though he lacked creativity and needed a lot of guidance to build things, the work was good. Magelight filled the foyer and on the ground floor she saw Kehet straight away, half way through a light dinner and deep in conversation with Azzan and Gorz gro-Kurg.

Gorz gestured wildly as he shared an apparently-riveting anecdote and at a crucial point in the smaller orc’s story, a wall of laughter erupted from the older men and they threw their heads back, shoulders heaving with mirth. Evie dropped the knapsack, approached from behind and tapped Kehet forcefully on the shoulder. He looked up and behind at the touch, still grinning, and stood to attention when he saw the second-in-command stood there. He knocked the chair out from under him as he scrambled to his feet.

The whole atmosphere in the room changed in an instant. Everyone fell quiet, and the flurry of many voices from the upper floor now reached their ears. Kehet’s whisper betrayed how nervous he was. “...Is it time?”

Evie nodded, and swallowed. “Yeah. Follow me… I’ve got a place sorted out. Let’s get this over with… sooner rather than later.”

Azzan stood too - he didn’t jump up like Kehet had, his movements were slow and dutiful. “Should I go get Modryn?” he asked.

“No… he’s working hard up there. Best leave him to it.”

“What should I tell him?”

“Don’t tell him anything. Not until it’s over. I think he’d rather not know _while_ it’s happening.”

The fact that Modryn had insisted they keep his plans to themselves was working out in her favour, now she thought about it. It was only too easy to go against him… and only too easy for her guildmates to help her do it, unwittingly. She felt more guilt over that than she could ever imagine, but she was doing the right thing. There was no way she’d sit back and let him die. He’d be furious with her when he found out, but it was a small price to pay.

Azzan stepped forward and pulled Evie into a quick but intimate hug. She was pressed into the steel armour, and the Redguard offered a gentle pat on the back before releasing her, looking down into her eyes with concern. He didn’t say anything at first - he probably didn’t know _what_ to say, Evie guessed. It was hard for most people to find the right words when they talked about this, but Azzan wasn’t most people. She knew how he felt. It had been a long time since they’d talked it out and he didn’t say anything these days but that nervous energy and that distraction, still they were always there. Evie hoped some day he’d settle down with another woman but until then it might take a long time for it all to go away, and they both knew that deep down, he was somewhat jealous of Malacath.

“...Good luck, Evie,” he finally said. “You’ll be fine.”

“Thanks Azzan… I will. I’ll see you later.”

Evie made her way to where Gorz gro-Kurg still sat, and set a hand on his shoulder. The younger was quiet, words failing him completely, but Evie didn’t mind. She smiled down at him encouragingly, and Kehet followed her as she hauled the knapsack back onto her back, and the two left the warmth of the foyer, walking out into the bitter rain.

*

*

Kehet looked around the cabin as he followed Evie in, the mounted heads of the stags on the far walls were the first thing to catch his eye.

“Where are we?” he asked. “I mean- who lives here?”

“Honditar,” Evie replied simply as she stood on tiptoe to reach the shelf by the door. As instructed, she left the spare key there. “You know the high elf who always comes in the Guild? He’s a hunter, and this is his place. I’ve never actually been in here before.”

He’d kept the lamps alight for when they came, Evie noted, ignoring everything and dropping the knapsack somewhere by the bed. She sat herself down and Kehet watched her pull out vial after vial of a distinctive red liquid, arranging them on the floor beside the bed.

“Healing potions?” he asked tentatively.

“Yeah,” was all Evie said in return.

The orc’s amber eyes widened in fear as more kept coming, probably close to two dozen now - how bad was this going to be? He hoped the Imperial had simply brought far more than she thought she’d need. Kehet knelt down to her level and gripped her arm tight, the last potion still in her hand. He could feel her trembling. He fixed her with eyes filled with worry.

“Is there no other way? I don’t… I don’t wanna have to hurt you.”

Evie chucked the empty knapsack aside. “You won’t hurt me,” she said. Her wavering voice gave away the fear she otherwise hid so well. “Remember… it won’t be you.”

“D’you… want me to summon him now?”

“Please.”

The two shared an awkward hug as they sat and knelt there. “Thanks Kehet… I know this hasn’t been an easy time for you. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Even as Evie hugged him, she could feel Kehet shaking violently, and she let go as he started to transform. He fell back hard against the stone floor with a thud, dry-heaving as he took off what clothing he could before it got ruined. The man struggled to his knees as he grew and changed, another tunic and another pair of pants now lay ruined about his expanding form, and for a moment the tiniest of smiles pulled at Evie’s mouth as she thought about how _expensive_ this ordeal was getting for Kehet but quickly it disappeared as that elongating, twisted face formed into Malacath’s dragon-like muzzle again and _so many sharp teeth_ filled it around those huge canines.

At first the Daedric Prince only stared down at Evie, and as she sat there, she stared back, waiting for him to lead the exchange. She didn’t hide the fact that she was afraid, he’d know anyway. Malacath broke the silence with a hungry growl that reverberated in Evie’s own chest.

“I’ve been watching you two…” he said. “For a moment I didn’t know _what_ you would do.”

“Is this outcome to your liking?” Evie asked as politely as she could, her expression hard as stone. “Or would you rather be killing Modryn?”

“That remains to be seen, _Evie Cenitus_ … get up. Get naked for me.”

The mortal stood, and Malacath stepped back slowly and gave her space as she started to undress. He watched her every move. “And… and if _I’m_ not to your liking? Are you going to…”

“Kill Oreyn? **HAH!** ” the immortal gave a quick bark of laughter that made Evie jump, half way out of her pants. “I’m a man of my WORD, and if you suggest otherwise, you insult me! Besides…”

Malacath circled his prey slowly, inspecting every inch with a judging gaze as Evie stepped out of her underwear and finally stood naked before him. She stood up straight and waited for his next move. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about… you’re more than adequate.”

The Imperial closed her eyes so she couldn’t see those yellow eyes trail over her form - as if it made a difference… she could _feel_ his eyes on her, lingering in some places more than others. Her face flushed as burning heat crept up her neck. When the Daedroth spoke, Evie could feel his breath wash over her skin, he was so close. He didn’t smell like ash… he smelled like fumes. Like poison. “I can see what Oreyn sees in you,” he purred. “You are… _beautiful_.”

When a large hand, surprisingly warm, cupped her cheek and trailed down her neck, the girl stiffened, willing herself not to recoil from his touch, reminding herself why she was there. She heard the clink of metal on metal as Malacath rifled through the various pendants hanging above her breasts with a single claw.

He chuckled at the way Evie had laden herself with bracelets, rings and anklets. “You came prepared, didn’t you?”

His touch continued further and he cupped a large breast in one hand, massaging a pale nipple until it was fully hard, and her blue eyes snapped open as he squeezed. “You agreed to it.”

“I did. I’m not complaining. I’m only saying you look ridiculous. Now… on your knees.”

She obeyed without question, and when Malacath pulled off his loincloth and cast it aside, she got the first proper look at what she’d be dealing with. She’d seen glimpses here and there the other times the Daedric Lord had been summoned, not that she’d been _looking_ … but sometimes it was hard not to notice when he moved a certain way. And now he stood there completely naked, she could assess him properly.

He was already stone-hard - she’d guessed that for a little while now but it was hard to tell for sure, and a strange sense of relief hit her when she saw the size of his cock… after all the anticipation, it turned out he wasn’t _that_ much bigger than Modryn. Maybe Malacath liked to be humble in the form he took for mortals, or maybe Modryn was just particularly well-endowed. As Evie looked up from his leaking dick to the shit-eating grin on the immortal’s face, she decided it was probably the latter.

“Beg for it,” he commanded. He balled a fist in the girl’s hair.

She had no choice but to play along. She sighed quietly, her gaze dropped to the rug she knelt upon. “Please…”

“What was that?” he snarled. “You’ll have to do better than THAT! You’re here to EARN Oreyn’s life! Now… BEG FOR IT!”

“Please Malacath…” Evie said, this time much more conviction in her voice. “Please. I beg of you.”

“What do you beg of me? _What is it_ you need?”

She hated herself for this. “Your… your cock.”

“Say it again. Politely. And _look at me_.”

Evie forced herself to look him in the eye. “My lord… please, please give me your cock…”

“That’s better… such a good little whore…” Malacath said, clearly amused. His grip on her hair grew tighter. “Now open wide.”

For a moment she wondered whether Malacath would have a problem with her _touching_ him… but that was a short-lived thought. It was more likely he’d want Evie to be worth his time, and _that_ meant doing what she must. So she placed her hands on his strong hips to steady herself, fingers brushing along weathered skin, and that was all the time he gave her to prepare before shoving her forcefully onto his shaft.

She coughed and gagged around his length but Malacath only pushed himself further down her throat - every reflex of hers that fought against his cock seemed to be punished with more and more force. When she’d taken just over half of him Evie couldn’t possibly take any more, she pushed against him in a bid to catch her breath but it did no good, he only thrust his hips harder. She couldn’t breathe. Hot tears pricked at her eyes and she shut them tight. Eventually, the Daedroth’s frustrated snarl tapered out when he was nicely hilted in Evie’s mouth, and he finally let her up for air. When he thrust in again, and again, he released a low growl of pleasure as the mortal’s body resisted him less and less each time, and before long, he slid in with ease.

Tears streamed down her face, and she sobbed around Malacath’s cock as he pistoned roughly into her. She couldn’t do this, she wanted out, _she wanted out_ and thoughts of her fiancé were the only thing that kept her going. She put as much effort into her task as she could, licking him, sucking him as he pulled out. He positively roared in enjoyment, fingers of both hands weaving tighter into her hair, blood trickled down her neck as sharp claws dug into her scalp, before it was all over. Suddenly he pulled out completely, and Evie gasped for air, coughing on her own spit. As she knelt there, his grip on her hair loosened but he didn’t let go. She knew it was only the beginning.

Her throat was a world of agony. The air that passed through was like fire against her abused airway. Gaze fixed on Malacath’s clawed feet, she reached for the first healing potion, popped the cork and knocked it back quickly. Above her, Evie could hear him chuckle darkly, perhaps the frailty of a mortal body amused him, but she found she didn’t care. Already the potion got to work, the burning in her throat lessened but not gone completely.

 _You can do this_ , she thought to herself. _There’s people who get raped by Molag Bal and if_ they _survived_ that _, you can do this._

Malacath pulled roughly on her hair, urging her up onto her feet. Evie obliged quickly, shaking legs barely supporting her, each breath still a struggle as she forced herself to look up into his wicked eyes.

He knelt down. “Kiss me.”

_I hate you._

She didn’t know how to kiss a muzzle, but she gave it her best shot, not even bothering to protest. The girl rested a hand somewhere on his jaw and pressed her lips to his. When he kissed her back, it was easier for her to slip her tongue in, and he did the same. She didn’t know why she’d expected his tongue to be forked, but it turned out it wasn’t. When their tongues met she felt herself growing aroused - she wasn’t _enjoying_ this, was she? The throbbing between her thighs only became stronger as Malacath dominated her, taking control of the kiss, exploring deeper. She was bent back over the edge of the bed as his rough hands explored every part of her they could reach.

He suddenly rose to full height, and Evie screamed when he grabbed her by the throat, pulling her up off the ground as though lifting her weight was nothing at all to him. She clawed at his hand just so she might have access to air and he stared deeply into her terrified eyes for a while, before throwing her down on the bed. Something in the bed frame cracked as she landed on the rough linen, and she stifled a cry of pain. When Malacath climbed on top, pushing apart her thighs and settling between them, whatever had cracked before gave way, and Evie dropped into the very middle of the broken bed.

The hand that pushed her legs apart travelled across her sex, up her mound and rested beneath her navel. Malacath traced the three scars with his claws and found they were almost a perfect fit. “…What happened _here?_ ” he asked slowly, grinning that predatory grin.

“I… was stuck in the Deadlands for a short time.”

“You made it out… alone?”

Evie nodded quickly, her eyes wide with fear.

The Daedric Prince grinned ever wider, leaning over her small form, so close to her she thought he might kiss her again. “Impressive. Maybe I underestimated you.”

Without warning he grabbed hold of her thigh and yanked her down the bed, and leaned further over. The Imperial stiffened when Malacath positioned himself at her entrance, and with one hand caressing her hip he forced his way in. She howled in agony as he buried himself in, and he roared in delight. Her pussy burned at the forced entry, he was way too big and she wouldn’t ever have been ready for him.

The Daedroth thrust slower than Evie had expected, but hard, way too hard. Modryn had always been a rough lover but he always respected her limits. Malacath, it seemed, was different. He hit something inside of her over and over that made her cry out, it wasn’t good, and that only made him fuck her harder. The mortal bit her lip to keep herself from sobbing openly, it was relentless, it was agony.

Again, so suddenly, he stopped moving completely. “You feel good, whore…” he purred, his smile full of malice. “Oreyn is a lucky man…”

Evie took the brief pause to knock back another potion, and before she’d been able to cast the empty vial aside Malacath pulled out and flipped her onto her front. He pulled her ass up to meet his body. _This is for Modryn_ , she thought to herself, repeating it over and over in her mind, _you’re doing it for him_ , she thought as he buried himself inside again and settled on a truly brutal pace. She sobbed into the bed linen, hands gripped so tight on the bed frame her fingers were sure to break as the immortal pounded into her, faster and faster. If she thought he’d fucked her hard before she had no idea what was coming next.

Evie found she was accommodating Malacath before long - she was wet. Why was she wet? She shouldn’t be wet! She wasn’t enjoying this! …Was she? His cock hit all the right spots inside her, of course, but he also hit all the wrong ones. She wailed in agony as he jammed a thumb deep in her ass. _That_ wasn’t good. She and Modryn experimented, of course they did, and she’d liked it when he did it but this time there was no oil, and _Malacath had claws_. As he pushed in deeper and deeper they gouged her skin, and she knew that wet feeling was her blood collecting inside.

The claws of his other hand dug deep into her skin, gouging wounds that spilled blood on the bedsheets, on her, on him, and as Malacath continued to roar, Evie cried quietly, repeating her mantra over and over in her mind. Already, screaming was too much effort. She put a hand to her hip but before she could cast a healing spell Malacath swatted it away.

_I hate you!_

She was half way through her third potion when he sunk his teeth into the crook of her neck like an animal attacking its prey. The world around her faded, and she finally passed out.


	8. Chapter 8

After two days of hard work, Modryn Oreyn was just about done getting his affairs in order, and finally he could take a moment to relax. It had only taken two days to organise everything because the only thing he really had that _mattered_ was the Guild, and of course, Evie would inherit that, which would mean that for the most part, she’d simply pick up where he left off. Right now he was just trying to make things easier for when she took over. And of course, everything he owned would go to Evie - it wasn’t like he had any family left.

He knew Evie would be okay, when the dust settled. One of the reasons he’d wanted to be with her when he’d have turned down most other women - he knew she could look after herself. Modryn had avoided serious relationships with all women since he began to climb higher and higher through the ranks of the Guild - the work became more dangerous, and at some point he’d decided it wasn’t fair of him to start a family he might not return home to. So after that, serious relationships became casual ones. Casual relationships became one-night stands. One-night stands became whores. And at some point, whores became nothing at all.

And Evie had been the one to change that. Perhaps it was because she was in the same position that made it easier. She’d do just fine on her own - with her, he’d never been afraid of what might happen if he was killed in the field one day. In fact, since she was his second she’d climb even _higher_ in rank once she inherited the Guild. And their guildmates would undoubtedly take care of her after he was gone. He knew he’d never have to worry about her. And now that day was upon them both, he didn’t.

He stood, ready for what was to come, and headed downstairs to go get Kehet. It was time. As Modryn thought about Evie, and everything he would miss, his heart broke a little more. She’d go on to build a life with somebody else. Have a family with some other man. Everything he’d wanted to do with her… at least she’d never have to suffer for him again. That thought was a small comfort to him.

When he scanned the first floor, Kehet wasn’t there. And reaching the ground floor, he took a good look around - he wasn’t there either. He stood, near on paralysed with dread. He didn’t need anyone to tell him - right away he knew why the Daedric Champion wasn’t around.

“ **AZZAN!** ”

In a matter of seconds the third-in-command descended the stairs, trepidation written on his features.

“...Boss?”

“Where is Kehet?”

Azzan stiffened. “He… left with Evie. She said not to tell you while it was happening.”

The next thing Modryn knew, he had Azzan pinned to the wall. In his rage his own actions were blank spaces in his memory. “ **You let them GO?** ” he bellowed.

The Redguard was stunned, but he didn’t resist. “Wasn’t that the plan?”

Modryn snarled. Of course that wasn’t the plan! But… how was Azzan to know that?

He released him quickly, trying to calm himself. “Where are they? Where did they go?”

“They went out the South Gate a few hours ago. Nobody saw where they went from there.”

The Guildmaster didn’t respond. He was gone in an instant, out the door into a now-clear night, across the plaza, down the road, he ran until he reached the South Gate. Once he pushed open the gates and left the city, he stopped. Modryn looked out across the dark expanse of the wilderness, illuminated only by the moons and a starry sky, and realised he had no idea where the two of them could've gone. His heart pounded, not from exertion but from fear.

While he stood there he listened. The only sounds to be heard were crickets in the distance, and the rustling of the wind through the trees and bushes, and then he heard the breathing right behind him. Felt the warm air wash over the skin of his own neck. He froze. He didn’t need to turn around and look to know who was behind him.

“Is it over?” he asked, speaking out into the quiet night.

“She was _wonderful_ ,” Malacath said.

He was trying to goad the Dunmer, and it worked. Modryn had never had such an urge to lay waste to any man, and resisting it now was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. “And now you’ll leave my family alone?”

“Forever. Unless you do something stupid like your ancestor did. Be good to me, and my friends… and the Oreyn family will never hear from me again.”

Now he turned around, and met those cruel eyes. “Where is Evie?”

Malacath pointed west, past the stable, to the cabin barely visible in the limited light. “I’m sure you have a _strong stomach_ ,” he teased. “You might need it.”

Modryn didn’t bite. He wasted no time - if Evie was truly hurt, there was no time to waste. He turned around without another word, and headed towards the cabin.

“One more thing…”

Oreyn stopped in his tracks, looking at the Daedric Prince with contempt. “What is it now?”

Malacath’s wide smile was positively evil. “I left her with a little _parting gift_ …”

The Dunmer’s crimson eyes narrowed as he advanced on the immortal. “And what might that be?”

“It would’ve been impossible not to… you don’t know what can happen when a mortal accepts the seed of a Daedric Prince… do you?”

“What did you DO to her?”

“I didn’t knock her up, if that’s what you’re thinking. No… I gave her something _far_ greater than a child. My very blood.”

“You gave her your blood,” Modryn repeated. He shook with rage. “You promised it would be over!”

“It _is_ over… it’s not my problem you didn’t think of this when you gave me your _terms_ ,” the Daedroth said, his smile wider than ever, all his teeth on display. “I gave her a _blessing_. A little something for being such a good sport. But tell me, Oreyn… can you marry her now? Can you still love a woman with the blood of _Malacath_ in her veins? Can you still love a woman doomed to bring _Daedric blood_ into the Oreyn line?”

Modryn sneered at his enemy. “I’ll always love her,” he said resolutely. “You don’t have the power to change that.”

Malacath’s low laughter was like thunder. “You’re a better man than your ancestors,” he said. “Take care… old friend.”

The Guildmaster didn’t stop to witness the Daedric Lord revert into his Champion’s form. He fled across the field, to the cabin. _Daedric blood?_ he thought to himself. What did _that_ mean? _Damn her for going against me! Damn her for being so stubborn! This would’ve never happened if she’d let me take care of it!_ Damn _Malacath for tricking us both!_ Damn _Farvyn for taking that Imperial stipend!_ Damn Oreyn Bearclaw! DAMN THEM ALL!

He hated being so helpless. He didn’t know what to do with it, so it only made him mad, it made him _fucking mad_. When he flung open the door he still smouldered with rage, but the scene that met him stunned him, so deeply that all emotion left him except for sheer terror.

“Evie…” he breathed.

The first thing he noticed was the blood. It was everywhere - were he not so used to the smell by now, it would’ve had him reeling. He didn’t know _what_ he expected, but when he rushed to the bed, knelt at Evie’s side, pulled back the rough covers and found her sleeping there - _alive_ \- relief overwhelmed him. Next to the bed were strewn near on two dozen empty vials, and judging by the drenched bed linen and stained stone underfoot, not all of their contents had made it into her system.

His fiancée stirred, barely moving at all but when her eyes met his, every part of her seemed to relax.

“Darling…” she whispered.

Modryn didn’t know what state he expected _Evie herself_ to be in, but a part of him was relieved. He’d expected her to look _much_ worse. His heart still raced as he reached out and grazed her cheek and jaw with a rough hand, noticing deep wounds on her neck, shoulders, along her arms. It seemed every part of her had been gouged, bitten, beaten in some way, except her face. Perhaps Malacath left her face alone because he knew the value of a beautiful woman.

“I’m sorry…” she mumbled. Half-awake, her words were barely-coherent. “Be as mad as you like with me but please don’t take it out on Kehet… he’s done nothing…”

How typical it was of Evie, Modryn thought to himself, to think of everyone else’s well-being right after her own ordeal. Just one of the things he’d fallen in love with, and just one of the reasons he’d been dreading letting her go. “Don’t worry Evie… I won’t.”

She began to roll over to face her fiancé but he placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

“Try not to move,” he said gently. “Take it easy.”

Ignoring him completely, she whimpered tiredly at the pain as she rolled onto her right side and began to sit up, supporting herself on trembling arms. She looked down at the pile of empty vials, confused about why they were all empty. She could only remember drinking about three. What happened after she passed out?

Evie promptly vomited over the side of the bed. Maybe it was the stench of blood and cum in the room that pushed her over the edge, or maybe she had way too many healing potions in her system, neither knew.

“Take it _easy_ , Evie…”

“Look at the state of this place…” Evie said weakly, coughing up the last of it. The corners of her mouth twitched into the smallest smile. “We should clean everything up before we let Honditar back in…”

She wiped her mouth with the back of a bloodied hand. When she saw the state of her arms, her torso, almost every part of her, she didn’t seem all that bothered by the mess she was in. Instead she sat up straight and ran her hands along her skin - where she touched, the wounds that remained began to disappear. Modryn stared. He didn’t appreciate just how hard she’d practiced with the mages until now. It wasn’t long before she was finished, and it became clear she couldn’t heal the deepest ones, on her neck, on her hips - they’d always be there. Modryn couldn’t help but think about how she would only carry _more_ scars for him. And he knew it wouldn’t be the last time - she would never stop suffering for him, if it was what she insisted on doing.

“You shouldn’t have done it,” he said, his tone serious.

Evie met his gaze and smiled weakly. “For you, I’d do it all again tomorrow. I love you Modryn… you wanted to die to stop me suffering, but you never understood... if you weren't here I'd suffer every day without you. Besides… it’s over now, isn’t it?”

The elf thought about what Malacath had said to him, and he wondered exactly how he’d explain that to Evie when he himself didn’t understand what it meant for her to have Daedric blood in her veins.

“On that note… I need to tell you something important,” he said. He took her hand in his, and trailed a slow, gentle pattern on the back with his thumb.

Evie’s face fell. “What- it _is over_ , right?”

“Yes, of course it’s over! He’ll never bother us again. But there is one thing you need to know.”

He wondered exactly what that ‘parting gift’ meant for her. On the outside, she was the same Evie she’d always been, even if she was a mess right now. She hadn’t woken fully yet but her mind didn’t seem to be affected. He guessed that only time would tell exactly what he’d done to her. One thing was certain though - he would never love her any less. If Malacath had been trying to tear them apart for his own amusement, suffice to say he’d failed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to say... I wrote this chapter in an ~24 hours space which is REALLY quick for me so I feel like it's not going to be any good, but it's pretty much exactly what I wanted it to be, so I uploaded it. I think since I'm getting to the end all my specific thoughts are really back-logged so I know exactly where I'm going and it's easier. At least I hope so.
> 
> Actually the 'Daedric blood' was quite a new addition, I thought of that like 2 days ago and I couldn't help myself for **reasons**.


	9. Chapter 9

About seven weeks passed, and having finally paid off the damage he’d caused, it was time for Kehet to leave Chorrol. It wasn’t like him to stay put in the same place for that length of time - he spent his days travelling Tamriel, going wherever Malacath needed him to be and doing whatever needed doing, and everyone knew he’d return to that life soon enough.

That didn’t stop several members of the Fighters’ Guild getting rather attached to him though, and as Evie Oreyn stood with her husband under the shade of the old oak tree, and threw her arms around the massive orc and said her goodbyes, she didn’t ever expect to be one of them. After all, the circumstances in which they met were far from ideal, and the ones they got to know each other in were worse. And now they’d become friends, it was hard to watch him leave.

At least he’d stayed around long enough to come to Bravil, Evie thought to herself. He’d been one of the few to take that trip with them, and see her and Modryn wed. And of course, he’d come back to Chorrol with them to join in the celebration last night. A warm glow filled Evie’s chest as she thought back to the parts she could remember - everyone had been _there_. Ili and Farwil had come from Cheydinhal, and Evie’s parents had followed them back from the ceremony in Bravil and stayed a short while to celebrate before going back to the Imperial City.

Evie let go, and looked up at Kehet, her hand still resting on a massive arm. “Don’t be a stranger,” she said to him. “Come back and see us soon. At the very least write us when you get the chance. Let us know what you get up to.”

Kehet smiled his wide, toothy smile. “I’ll try.”

He met Modryn’s eyes. “That okay with you Modryn?”

The Guildmaster did something none of those gathered there expected him to. He stepped forward and pulled the orc into a quick and strong embrace. He grasped his hand in his own. “You’re welcome here any time, brother,” he said, before pulling away.

Evie stared in fascination. After everything that had happened… no one expected Modryn to see Kehet as anything more than an enemy - after all, it _had_ been his body, technically speaking, and people expected him to take a _very_ long time to move on from all of it. But it seemed her husband was still full of surprises. Regardless, she was proud of him for that.

“Take care of yourself,” Evie added.

“Same to you. Go home, go… nurse that hangover.”

Evie stood up straight, haughty, as she laughed and placed a hand on a hip. “What makes you think I’m _hung over?_ ”

“Oh please Evie…” Modryn interjected, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her close. “I didn’t even know you _could_ drink that much.”

As composed as she tried to make herself out to be, indeed, she was paying for it all now. Still, Evie grinned coyly. “This is a whole new chapter in our relationship, darling!” she said. “What better way to see it in than pay tribute to how it all began?”

Modryn couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he recalled how everything started, and he supposed that she had a point, and together they watched Kehet turn and leave. He carried nothing except Volendrung, slung across his back - it was all he’d come with and all he would leave with. Several of their Guild brothers and sisters followed him to the gates, walking with him and sharing their own goodbyes until he left the city.

For a little while Evie’s gaze stayed trained on the gate, not really looking, not at anything really, her mind elsewhere. Modryn still held his wife close against his own body, and she rested her head on his shoulder. Had she looked his way, she’d have noticed he was staring absent-mindedly at that gate too. They both stood like that for a while as the world around them returned to normal - everyone congregated there quickly left, returning to whatever it was that needed doing.

“It feels weird… doesn’t it?” Evie said eventually.

Modryn only hummed in agreement.

“I didn’t think I’d miss him this much.”

He squeezed her warmly, gently, and then let go. “Things had to go back to normal some time… for us _and_ for him. Come on… we need to get back to the Guild. We have a lot of work to do.”

Evie nodded without saying anything, and weaved her fingers around his own as they crossed the plaza, hand in hand, and returned to the Guild hall. As they climbed the stairs to the office, Evie knew that Modryn was right - they had a lot of work to catch up on, and today was another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last _actual_ chapter... the next one after this is more of a collection of events and things that happen to the couple after this that have no place in the actual story. It kind of ties up loose ends. If you wanna know what sorts of things happen to them after this, it's all there. If not... this is the end of the story.
> 
> I do have about 4 "asides" to write though which will go into this series as a new story. Conversations and the like which happened earlier in the timeline than I've been writing (or in between the 2 stories) that don't fit into this narrative.
> 
> If you've made it this far, I can't express how glad I am of that. Thank you for reading what I think is my best story/series so far, and I hope you liked it <3


	10. Afterwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't an actual chapter. Think of this as like a dumping ground for all of my "additional" thoughts about this couple. The big or memorable things that happen in their lives which don't fit in any narrative, but have been knocking around my head loudly enough that I want to get the ideas out.
> 
> It's likely I'll keep adding to this if I keep thinking about these guys. If I do, this is probably where I'll put the thoughts.
> 
> This is for anyone who wants to know "what happened next".

True to his word, Malacath never bothered the Oreyn family again. After that incident, they never heard from him again. It wasn’t the last time they heard _of_ him though - Kehet stayed a close friend to them for as long as he lived, and whenever he visited or wrote (the former far less often), he’d share story after story of what his Daedric master had been asking of him since the last time.

*

Only a couple of months after the two were married, and a succession of nightmares frayed her nerves to breaking point, Evie made the decision to confess to Modryn about what happened in Cheydinhal, and the fact that she was the owner of Mehrunes’ Razor.

It came as a great shock to him, as he never expected to marry a murderer. He told her sternly that he should expel her from the Guild. However, he didn’t do that, seeing how heavily the affair had played on her conscience it was clear she’d punished herself enough over it. And besides - he respected her intentions. All Modryn could do to make things right was convince her to let go of the Razor, something Evie did readily.

She gave the Razor to him, and Modryn locked it in a chest somewhere in the Guild hall and disposed of the key, and there it stayed until the Keepers came for it, many years later, after they’d both retired from managing the Guild. They’d followed the scent from Varsa Baalim where it was taken by Mankar Camoran, to the Champion of Cyrodiil, Ili - the one known to have killed him. It wasn’t hard for the Keepers to track her - she still lived in Cheydinhal with her husband Farwil Indarys, and the couple were able to tell them where they last knew it to be. When the Keepers arrived in Chorrol looking for the weapon, the pair handed it over gladly.

*

Evie and the Champion of Cyrodiil remained good friends for life. Due to their commitments - Evie’s to the Guild, and her family, and Ili’s to the city of Cheydinhal where she eventually became Countess, and _her_ family, the two Imperials didn’t get to visit each other as often as they’d like, but they wrote to each other often - always in Dunmeris.

*

It was easy for them both to forget that Evie had Daedric blood in her veins. Nothing about her changed, except for the fact that she was much stronger and tougher, and as a result, fought much better after that day. It seemed that Malacath had indeed bestowed a blessing on her, yet neither knew why. When they brought it up with Kehet, he suggested it was simply the whim of a Daedric Prince - never to be truly understood by mere mortals, only accepted.

The pair were apprehensive when they began their own family - sure, Evie was unchanged, but what would the blood of Malacath mean for their children? As it turned out, they were as normal as could be, it seemed the blood hadn’t changed a thing. However, they did note as they grew older that they all seemed _particularly_ strong, in the same way their mother was, and particularly handy with a weapon. Into adulthood, they noticed their sons were all much bigger than average - they were the size of orcs as grown men. Indeed, from then on, all men with Oreyn blood were built that way.

*

Evie and Modryn had five children - three boys and two girls. Their oldest, Uthros, inherited the Guild, and when it was time, passed it to his eldest, and so on. Uthros was a fighter, like his mother and father, but he didn’t wield a mace _or_ a sword. They had that discussion when their son was barely old enough to handle a weapon - both agreed he should be encouraged to train from an early age, like they both had.

Then came a far more animated discussion about what weapon should be his speciality - should he wield a mace like his father, or use a sword and shield like his mother? Modryn was surprisingly good with a blade, but preferred not to use one. Eventually, the pair decided they should let Uthros make that decision for himself, and so, he was placed in the yard with Evie’s blade, and Modryn’s mace, and allowed to go to whichever he pleased. They waited with bated breath as young Uthros tottered towards them, and both were left speechless when Honditar walked up behind them, planted his bow next to the other two weapons and watched with a smug smile as the little boy grasped it in both hands.

From that day on, Uthros was an archer - and a fantastic one at that - but it was Honditar’s job to train him. Their third-born - their oldest daughter - Iliana, would follow in her older brother’s footsteps and take up a bow, even though she chose not to fight for a living, and it was a skill she passed to her own children.

*

After the incident with Malacath, Evie Oreyn never suffered for her husband again. Of course she got injured on contracts - almost everyone in the Guild did. Even Evie with her new-found power couldn’t avoid getting hurt altogether. Suffice to say, they lived happily ever after. They had everything they could ever want - a family all around them, a whole Guild of friends by their side, many who they already considered family in their own way, and they had their own love, which would never end. They always considered themselves blessed.

It turned out that the Daedric blood caused Evie to live longer - and stronger - than she was expected to (as an Imperial with no real magickal background). She passed at the age of 116, surrounded by family. Three years later Modryn followed, living to the age of 244, he too, surrounded by family.

*

But as one story ended, many others were just beginning. Over the generations, the Oreyn family grew and spread across the whole of Tamriel - both in name and otherwise. The Oreyn family continued to run the Fighters’ Guild both in Cyrodiil and Morrowind, and they were known to be a powerful influence in the Guild of every other province. Outside of the Guild, the family members made their name in many trades and in many ways - becoming famous gladiators, faithful mercenaries, some of the finest Dunmer soldiers the Imperial Legion had ever taken on. They spread across the continent, leaving true tales of good deeds in their wake that would pass on through the generations and make their ancestors proud - from the selfless vampire hunter twins of Hammerfell, to the rumoured last Dragonborn of Skyrim.


End file.
